Secrets
by Xavirne
Summary: Per a Tumblr followers request, I wrote this. They wanted a story about Angela giving birth to Jack Morrison's son. And well, this is what I came up with. [Mercy76]
1. Chapter 1: The Safe House

Overwatch had been in the news a lot lately. And not in the good way. People were back to blaming the heroes for causing mass destruction. For being reckless. For not doing enough. And, of course, not being actually approved by the UN. They were supposed to be disbanded. Criminals. No longer active. But there they were, making headlines. Saving the day.

It was odd how it worked. Heroes who were constantly getting run through the mud. Heroes that worked relentless hours for little to no thanks.

Though, all knew that came with the job. A thankless job that had to be done. For it they weren't going to do it, who else would?

"We need to lay low," Winston said while shaking his head. "Anyone have a safe house?"

"I," Mercy flew up to the front of the line, "I might have a place we can stay. It's a ranch. Out in the middle of nowhere." She wasn't sure if the group would enjoy it, but at least they would be safe. It was a little town with miles and miles between neighbors. Honestly, it was perfect. It also had an added bonus that she was more than excited to see. Granted, that was if the rest agreed to her proposed place.

"Where at?" Tracer tilted her head. "Middle of nowhere sounds great. Lot of space to run around?"

"Of course. It's a quaint little house wedged between rolling fields in the middle of Indiana." Her smile grew and a twinkle sparkled in her blue orbs. "It's really quite a remarkable area. And we'd be away from everyone."

"Can we trust this person?" Winston asked, unaware that Mercy had friends in Indiana.

"With our lives."

Looking among the group, he asked for all in favor. Nearly everyone voted in favor. Those that didn't? Well, they weren't really against it. They just didn't want to vote.

* * *

The dirt road was beginning to take its toll on her comrades. They weren't accustomed to the bumpy ride in the sand-colored four door Jeep Wrangler she was driving. As they hit literally every pothole, she would just laugh. Didn't help that the air conditioning was busted. Or that it was without a roof and doors. Frankly, it looked like shit. But it still ran. It was a Jeep thing. Something she came to love after her first ride in one.

From time to time, she would sing along to the tunes on the radio. Only one station existed and it only played country. Again, something the crew learned. Mercy actually listened to and enjoyed country music.

"Well when it's the only station out here," she added calmly, "it kind of grows on you."

"Didn't know you had a Jeep either, Merc," DVa purred. She was the only one actually enjoying the ride, besides Lucio and Junkrat.

"Yeah, like I said, I have some friends out here. The garage we got this from has been taking care of it for me. They use it and are constantly fixing it. This thing will last forever thanks to them."

"And denial," Jesse muttered, still wearing disbelief on his face as he held his stomach.

"But are you sure we can trust them?" Pharah was being paranoid again. "No one ca-"

"Trust me. They know who we are. And they understand what we represent. This town sees us as heroes. They'll protect us."

Turning down yet another dirt road, she finally announced their arrival. "We're here. Well, almost. Final stretch."

"Thank god," muttered Symmetra who was more than ready to murder Lucio and DVa who were arguing over who had the better Pokemon for the past two hours. They had been dueling back and forth and kept coming out with a tie. One game, DVa would win and then the next it would be Lucio. Junkrat tried to play with them but ended up just getting a team of Voltorbs that only knew Self-Destruct. Didn't really help him win. But it didn't really make him lose either.

Changing gears, the Jeep rolled to a gentle stop. Mercy was the first to spring from the seat and walk over to the door of a quaint little ranch-style house wedged between a sea of what looked like soybean. It went on for miles and miles.

The house itself looked small, but everyone could guess that it was massive. Behind it set a barn, large and a nice deep red color. There was a wooden fence that held in 3 horses. There was also a field full of cows and pigs too. The law was dotted with trees and around those trees gorgeous flowers of red, white, and blue. An American flag sat neatly on a pole just off to the side of the cream-colored house with the wrap-around porch. If one were a guessing man, the pond out back with the diving board was the "pool."

Her light knocking against the door, caused all of them to sit forward, eager to see the face that would appear in the door frame.

"Angela!" A pair of arms wrapped around the blonde's figure. "Oh it's been so long. So glad you could come on over. We're making your favorite tonight," the woman with sandy blonde hair shared. Stepping out onto her porch, she waved over at the loaded Jeep. "My oh my, should have told me you needed extra room. Would have come down with the truck," she laughed while joining Mercy as she walked to the Jeep.

"Mrs. Morrison," Ang opened her arms up to the crew, "all me to introdu-"

"Overwatch. Yes I know." She punched Mercy lightly. "Don't think I don't know my son's legacy when I see them."

"Son's legacy?" Tracer's nose crinkled as she looked from Angela to the woman dubbed 'Mrs. Morrison.' That's when the realization hit. "Wait, Morrison? As in… the Morrison? Jack Morrison?"

The woman whose face wore many wrinkles nodded. "Yes," her words were a sweet purr, "that's my boy."

Mrs. Morrison's hands fell back on Angela's shoulders. "He's out in the barn playing with Skippy."

"Oh jeez, he's still alive? That cat's, what, 12 years old now?"

"14 but close enough," she smirked. "Go on, call him."

"Skippy~!" Her voice rung out and was carried for miles across the flatlands. Then, in a matter of seconds, a large, orange Maine Coon came trundling out from the barn. Not too far behind it was a little blonde boy with the bluest of eyes.

The moment he saw who was before him, he froze. Then came the largest grin ever and the fasted little sprint anyone could ever imagine.

"Mama, mama, mama!" He shrilled with joy until he was flying up into the air.

"How's my little soldier?" Mercy quipped while nuzzling the boy's cheek against her own.

"Mama, I caught a frog the other day."

"A frog?" Her brows knit together. "Why would you do that?"

"You said daddy would always catch them for you. You said you didn't like them because they're slimy."

"Still don't," she teased. "And daddy was a meanie. He was always trying to make me kiss them."

The little kid chuckled, finding it funny to hear mama call daddy a meanie. "Daddy just liked to see you laugh, mama. You know that."

"That I do," she planted a soft kiss against his round, tanned cheek. "Have you been a good boy from grandma?"

He nodded. "Look mama, I got my toof!"

"Tooth," she corrected before sticking her fingers into his mouth. "And you goof, you lost a tooth! How did you do that."

His face flushed red. Mercy turned to Mrs. Morrison. "Do I want to know?"

"I _might_ have run into a door," the kid admitted.

"He was distracted at the market by a pretty little blonde girl. Reminded me of my Jacky when he first brought you home. Do you remember?" Mrs. Morrison chuckled. "He fell right over the fence and into the pit of pigs."

"Smelled like crap," Mercy remembered, "but I didn't mind. I climbed right in after him and kissed him anyway."

"He always acted like a love-struck fool with you," she waved a hand at the crew still in the Jeep. "Well don't just sit there. C'mon in. I made plenty of food for everyone. Just wash up and then we can eat."

"Mom," Mercy stepped in line with Mrs. Morrison, "you shouldn't have."

"Like I would let the mother of my grandson starve," she jeered before vanishing into the house.

Mercy continued to wait outside holding her son on her hips. "Well?" She cocked her head to the side.

"Ang," Tracer was looking over the 37-year-old woman and then the child, "I didn't… I didn't know you wer-"

"A mother?" The silent stare confirmed her question. "The timing was off." She set the little lad down. "Go wash up and find me that Skippy." With the boy inside, she leaned against the front of the house. "The timing was bad. I found I was pregnant after…" Her eyes drifted. "I saw no point in telling anyone but family. With Overwatch over, I came here. It wasn't safe with my family. And with Jack…" She bit her lip. "I moved in with them. Had the baby. Stayed here for a bit until I realized I couldn't just wither away in a house. I needed to be out on the field. Saving people. Helping people. So I left. And well, here we are now."

"But this whole time," Tracer's hands fell on Angela's shoulders, "you never mentioned a son."

"What was I supposed to say?"

"For starters, that you were pregnant."

Mercy shook her head. "We all have secrets." Her eyes gleamed over her friends-both new and old. "This was mine. You know now. It didn't hurt anyone or anything."

"No," Jesse shook his head. "Had we known, had I known, I would have been watching out for you more."

Mercy's brow lifted. She was confused.

"You're a mom, Merc. Had we known we would hav-"

"Treated me differently. Kept me back. Sent me home." She finished with a stern tone. "I'm a doctor, Jesse. I can't help people unless I'm there. I can't be back at base. We all know what happened last time and frankly, I don't want to repeat it." Then came her smirk. "And besides, I'm a mom. Moms are tough."

The crew fell silent before entering the house. There, right in the middle of the dim-lit living room was a man with white hair and dull blue eyes. He looked up and nodded his head at the group.

"Just don't feed that cat before 4AM. Damn thing will start thinking that's breakfast time. Took four years to convince him 6 o'clock is acceptable now that I'm old."

The little blonde boy sat happily in the floor petting the massive cat. It was easily a 20-pound cat, long and lanky too.

"Skippy likes to bit ankles," he warned. "If he does, just pick him up." Scooping the creature into his arms, he dragged the cat over to his mother. "Look mama, I can carry Skippy now."

"Well almost," she teased while touching Skippy's toes that walked along the wooden floor. "But soon you'll be so tall!" Taking the cat, she laid him against her shoulder. "Oh Skippy, I've missed you." Though the cat had little interest in Mercy. Instead, he was leaping over her back to rub up against the newest recruit, Soldier 76.

"Hope you're a cat person," she teased. "Because it looks like you've made a new friend."

76 shrugged before bending to pet the cat, an action that didn't go unnoticed by the kid. "Mama," he took Mercy's hand into his own, "who's he?" The kid's eyes were wide with awe and wonder. He instantly idolized the silver-haired, mask-wearing man in the leather jacket.

"That's Soldier 76," Angela quipped.

"What kind of name is that," the kid gave 76 a bit of a haughty glare. "What's your real name?" He leaned in.

"Soldier 76," he repeated with little interest.

The kid rolled his eyes before running into the kitchen. He he returned, he held a picture in his hands. "Mama, I made this." He held it up so all could see. "Look, it's you, me, and daddy." The stick-figure drawing was… well, a stick figure drawing by a 5-year-old. To the right was a woman with blonde hair, wings, and a white suit. In the middle, a little boy wearing blue with blonde hair and a big grin. To the left, a taller blonde in blue with a big grin too.

"Oh Jack," her hand fell over her heart, "that's precious!"

"I also made something for you to take with you." He retreated back into the kitchen before whispering. Minutes later, he returned with a picture frame. Inside, an old photograph of Angela and Jack back during the early years with Overwatch. And, cut out and taped in the middle, an up-close nose-shot of the kid.

"Jack," she stifled a laugh, "what is this?"

"I didn't know how to hold Gram's phone so I kinda ruined it. But she said it was perfect so I cut out and put in picture." He plopped it in her hands. "Do you like?"

"I love it," she whispered before bending down to kiss his nose.

"Sooooo," DVa twirled her hair, "not to be that person, but who's this?"

"Oh!" Her hands flew up as she inhaled. "My manners. Overwatch, this is Jack Jr."

He waved his hand wildly. "Hiiiii!" He said with a big, old grin. "Mama named me after daddy."

"Who's that?" DVa asked, still confused. They kept mentioning a Jack Morrison but who that was was beyond her.

"Only the finest hero Overwatch had ever seen. He was the poster child, the golden boy. The beckon of hope and the face of justice." Mrs. Morrison had wandered out into the main room carrying a freshly baked cherry pie. "My son, Jack Morrison, Overwatch's iconic Strike-Commander."

"Wait," Lucio's jaw fell to the floor. " _That_ Jack Morrison. The Jack Morrison that saved thousands?"

"Yup," the man in the chair quipped. "That's the one. Didn't want to grow up to be like his old man, a farmer." He shook his head. "Had he, he might still be alive."

"Oh, stop," Mrs. Morrison rolled her eyes, "he would have killed himself years ago if he were a farmer. Just wasn't his thing."

"Well it wasn't my thing either but someone had to do it." Mr. Morrison shook his head. "Why he's lucky he's dead," he began.

"Oh no, here we go again," Mrs. Morrison quickly fled the room.

She had heard this story far too many times. The story about how back in his day you did this and how Jack was anything but perfect. Though the story always ended with Mr. Morrison saying that he loved his son and wish he hadn't lost him.

* * *

To be continued…. Check back for a link to the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2: Bedtime Stories

It was getting later in the evening and a lot of the crew members were turning in for the night. It was nice that the whole crew wasn't here. Winston had taken Bastion with him to a repair garage with Zenyatta, Reinhardt, and Torbjorn. Hanzo and Genji also needed to return to their homeland as they were hired to keep a watchful eye on an important figurehead. Roadhog arrived much later in the evening, riding a motorcycle he pawned off some chap. And by pawned, he really meant stole. Some habits were hard to stop.

Tracer was the first to say her goodnights. Though DVa, Junkrat, and Lucio soon followed suit. The three of them arguing who would get to brush their teeth first.

As far as rooming went, it was Tracer, DVa, Pharah, and Symmetra in one room. There were two full-sized beds to share and the ladies had to pick their sleeping partner. Like always, DVa picked Tracer so the two could tell spooky ghost stories under the sheets while the other two tried to sleep. Mei and Zarya said they would be more than happy sleeping together on the pull-out couch. Roadhog and Junkrat volunteered to sleep in the loft in the barn, claiming they liked the heat. McCree let Lucio have the reclining chair, which left McCree to toss some blankets on the floor and call it a day. 76 was also given the same option to sleep on the floor but decided he didn't want to be clustered in the same living room with the rest. Instead, he sought out the office which was across the hall from his old bedroom. If he had it his way, he would have been sleeping in his bed but someone else had claimed it-Jack Jr and his mom.

Still flabbergasted by the whole realization that he was a father, 76 didn't really know what to do. If Mercy wasn't sleeping with the kid, he would have went into the boy's room and admired the new layout and look. Would have told the lad vague stories. And then asked if he would mind sharing his room with the masked stranger.

Instead, he was left to stand in the hallway with his ear to the door and eyes peaking in between the cracks as Mercy spoke with their son.

"Mama, mama," he jumped up and down, "did you see it?"

"The shooting star?" Her hand ruffled Jr's hair.

"Yup! Madison said if you share your wish with someone you love, it has to come true." He turned his cheeky face up to the stars. "And I wish for daddy to come home."

"Jack," Angela bit her lip.

"But mama, you said you didn't find his body. What if he's still out there. Looking for you. For us."

"He didn't even know you existed."

"He does," Jr protested. "I can just feel it. Right here," his hand fell over his heart. "Today he learned. I know he did. I think he follows you. He wants to protect you."

Angela pulled her son close before kissing his forehead. "You think so? You really think he's out there?"

Just then, the door creaked open further and Skippy wandered in. But not before pestering 76 who was trying not to give his position away. The damn cat really knew how to mess things up. Thankfully, Jr was quick to call the Maine Coon in.

"See, even Skippy knows."

Mercy shook her head. "Skippy knows everything. Especially when someone isn't in bed!" Her hands flew across Jr's body, tickling him until he broke into a fit of laughter. "He's come to eat your ankles and demand all ze Whisker Lickins!" When he eventually started to hack up a lung from having too many tickles, she stopped.

"Who's the best mom?" Her lips were pulled into a smile.

"You are!" His hands wrapped around her until his head was pressed against her breasts. She was warm. Nuzzling her, Jr smiled up at her before reaching a hand out to stroke Skippy. "All we need now is daddy."

* * *

God did it kill 76 to sit out there in the hallway. He was half tempted to push the door open and take off his mask. Go right up to Angela and kiss her while pulling Jr into his enduring, loving embrace. He just wanted to collapse on the floor before them and say he was back. That he was sorry he was gone for so long. That he was sorry he missed 5 years worth of birthdays and that he would make them up to Jr somehow. That he still loved Angela and couldn't imagine life without her.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't tell them. They couldn't no. No one could. This was his burden. His hell. His purgatory. He wasn't meant to have a happy ending. He was meant to stop the bad guys and expose the truth. If he didn't, who would? Overwatch was tainted due to poor decisions and those bastards needed to be called out.

Still, the idea of retiring and having a family sounded nice. Too nice. Maybe he was getting too old for this. Maybe it was time he let the younger generation-DVa, Lucio, Junkrat, etc.-take over and fix what he created.

Sighing, 76 just rested his masked cheek against the wall while he looked in at the pair on the bed. He had a son. A son.

* * *

A yawn gripped Jr, something Mercy saw and was quick to respond to. "All right, mister, off to bed."

"But moooom," he flopped against the pillow, "you didn't tell me a story."

"And what story do you want?"

"My favorite?"

"Again?" Merc sighed. If there was one story that she got sick of telling, it was this one. Good thing it was a funny story.

"Yup! I love hearing about how dad picked Skippy."

"Very well," she helped roll the child into the bed before pulling up the covers. "It was a crappy day. Cold and on the verge of raining. Your father wanted to go camping with me but the weather wouldn't allow it. I was so upset. I had never gone horseback riding before. Never seen a mountain lion. Never really experienced nature like he had.

"He knew I was bumming so he decided he would take me out to see some animals. We hopped in his old Wrangler-the blue one in the barn that gramp's is fixing-and he drove us into town. Now, I had no idea where he was taking me. I mean, town? How would I see any animals in town?

"Little did I know that he was taking me to the local adoption agency. His parents had been talking about getting a cat for weeks. They were having issues with mice and silly ol' me didn't put two and two together.

"When we get to this massive gray building with scary edges, I turned to Jack and was like, 'This is a joke, right?' He just laughed and told me to get out of the car. He was very serious. I was scared but I trusted him so out of the car I went.

"The closer we got to the door, the more scared I got. I thought he was going to do something bad. This place didn't give me a warm and cozy feeling. There were scratch marks on the pavement. There was dots of blood here and there. I wasn't sure what this place was, but boy was I scared. I thought about running away but when I saw the face of a little old lady at the front desk with the world's fattest cat, I couldn't. The sign on the wall behind her said 'free adoption day; come get your new pet.'

"Oh did I smack Jack so hard. Called him a jerk. He was purposely trying to scare me. Make me think he was going to do something bad when in reality he was just taking me to get a cat. He went out of his way to take me to the back entrance; the one that didn't have this lovely blue front with the words 'Get your new pet today' on the front. No, instead he picked the sketchy backside.

"He stepped up to the counter and asked which way for the cats. She pointed to the right so we went to the right. Skipping up behind him, I took his hand in my own and we skipped down the hallway until we reached the door at the end. In big, black letters read the word FELINES, that's fancy talk for cats.

"Your father, the gentleman that he was, held the door open and let me walk in first. When I walked through, I saw we were in a small hallway, one about the size of your room."

"Heeheehee," Jr giggled. "This is my favorite part."

"Jack didn't tell me why there was a hallway. He just opened that door and in spilled a dozen cats. All of them mewing and attacking my legs. They were crawling up my pants, another was trying to eat my shoe laces. Oh and let's not forget the one that decided to sleep on my shoes. It was a complete mess. All the kittens and cats were running wild.

"Your father," she puffed out her cheeks, "had called ahead of time to ask them to let all the cats out. He told them his girlfriend wanted to experience nature at its..." She groaned. "Feline-ist." Her eyes rolled. "His puns were awful. Though he would be quick to argue that they were 'pawesome.'" She gagged while wearing a smile. In reality, she loved them. Jack was just a big, goofy dork. And she loved the shit out of him.

"What about Skippy!" Jr held up the Maine Coon. "When did he show up."

"Well, as I was trying to unlatch the kittens from my legs, Jack was busy fighting off the fluffliest little ball of orange I had ever seen. The thing was this big," she gestured with her hands something about the size of a large grapefruit. "And he just wouldn't leave Jack alone. No matter what Jack did, that kitten followed. It purred so loudly I could hear him over all the other cats.

"I cried out to him, telling him he had done this to himself. Said he shouldn't have unleashed a horde of cats on me because karma would get him back."

Jr was giggling. "Daddy is silly sometimes."

"Very silly." Angela corrected. "Well, the next thing I saw was this ball of fluff leaping up and into Jack's arms. The thing jumped at least 4-feet in the air. A thing this big. This big! It was so impressive!

"Jack started screaming, because he didn't expect the cat to do that or what followed. In seconds, this orange puff ball was sitting on his head and..." Mercy stifled back a laugh. "Pooping on him."

Jr flew into a fit of laughs. "Skippy?" He held up the cat, "Did you really poopy on daddy's head?"

"Oh he did. Dad was so so so mad. He wanted me to take the little kitty off his head but the little orange guy refused."

"What happened next?" Jr leaned in as if he didn't know the story.

"You know what happened next," her lips spread into a grin.

"Daddy stomped out of the building," he pretended to march away while laying in bed, "with Skippy still on his head. Said he was keeping this cat and giving him a bath to show him who was boss. And daddy drove all the way home with Skippy on his head. When he got home grandma laughed and pappy said it was the best cat."

Angela giggled. "Yup, they said it was the cat Jack deserved."

Running a hand over Skippy's plush fur, Jr yawned again. "Skippy is best cat."

"Yes, yes he is." Angela curled around her son, pulling him closer to her chest.

"Think he'd remember dad if he came home?"

"Oh I think he would. It's hard to forget the first person you poop on," she teased.

Pulling up the blanket just a little more, Angela ran a hand through Jr's head. "Sweet dreams, my little soldier."

"Love you, mommy," Jr cooed before falling asleep beside the beautiful blonde.

* * *

Taking his visor off, Jack rubbed the tears from his eyes. Never before had he been in so much pain. It was killing him. There he was, hunkered down outside his son's door, listening to old stories about he and Angela. If only he had the courage to go charging in. To tell them the truth.

Curling away from the door, silent sobs seized him. There was little he could do. He was miserably. Felt like the world's worst father. He was so selfish, completely blind to the fact that Angela could have been bearing and caring for his child, his own flesh and blood.

A cold wet nose pressed against his cheek, which caused him to flinch. "Hey," his voice was a gruff whisper. "You're not supposed to me without this mask," he cooed while giving Skippy a good scratch right on the left cheek. It was his favorite spot, as noted by the wad of drool that formed in a bubble between his lips. "You been watching over my boy?" He tugged the cat up into his arms, burying his face in the cat's long, orange fur. "Keeping him company while I've been away?"

Skippy didn't say anything. Instead, he just purred. Happy to know that his best friend, Jack Morrison, was alive and well.

"I've missed you so much," Jack wrapped his hands around Skippy's head before tugging the fur back to make Skip's eyes bulge out some. Chuckling, he rolled up from the floor while Skippy still in tow. "I'm not letting you out of my sights tonight," he whispered while nuzzling the cat. "I can't sleep with my son but I can sleep with you."

Into the office he went. Door closed and mask to the side of the pillow, he stroked that soft fur until the sand in his eyes finally caused him to fall into a peaceful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3: Of Frogs and Flirts

Morning came later than expected. Rubbing her eyes, Mercy broke into a near panic when she saw Jr wasn't curled up next to her. That was until her eyes fell on the clock.

"11:00AM!?" She practically fell from the bed. She'd never slept in this late before. Heavens, what would the others think! She was supposed to be up at the crack of dawn and here she was missing morning breakfast. There was no way she could chew on something now, especially with noon right around the corner. And everyone knew that Mrs. Morrison's lunches were to die for. Then again, anything she made was to die for.

Scooting into the bathroom down the hall, she stripped before taking a quick shower. She didn't even bother to scrub her skin down. She could always do that later-like tomorrow. Right now, she had to rush though this and see what the crew was up to.

 _Gosh_ , she thought to herself, _how embarrassing!_

Towel now wrapped around her blonde hair, she started to apply her eyeliner and mascara. When had she started to look so pale. What happened to her color? Was she really overworking herself? She turned to inspect her nude form further.

Not a wrinkle in sight. Perks of being a top medical scientist with the latest and greatest tech. Heh, if only. The real reason was a little less ethical. Unable to get live subjects to test a new treatment on, Mercy decided to do it on herself. Thankfully, the results were overwhelmingly positive, sans the fact that everyone still thought she was 21 and not 37. Was that really a bad thing? Perhaps, if she was trying to catch the eyes of younger men. However, she preferred older, more experienced as to those damned, cocky youngins.

Patting off her still-wet skin, she started to dress herself. It was nothing overly fancy. A pair of bright orange shorts with black laces up the sides to make them look a little more badass. They really showed off her legs, one of her better features (or so Jack Morrison always used to tell her). A nice, crop-top white shirt with a large swoop in the back covered her chest. So what if they could see her lacy white bra? She had nothing to hide! Besides, everyone knew she was a Victoria's Secret kind of gal; Dream Angel being her favorite bra set for obvious reasons. Not to mention, none would complain about her more-exposed form. She was just as toned and lean as the rest, despite spending more time in the back of the lines rather than right up front with all the action.

Dropping the other towel, she ran a hand through her hair. Tossing her hair up in a sloppy pony tail, she nodded to herself. "Yeah," she quipped, "that'll do."

Towels now up over the rustic-themed shower curtain, she left the room and followed the sound of lively chatter. It eventually brought her to the kitchen, where Tracer and McCree were learning how to cook Mrs. Morrison's famed shepherd's pie. Dinner would be delicious! And then there wad DVa, who looked bored because she was given the task of 'stirring' the cream (likely the topping for some sweet dessert).

"If you continue at that slow rate, you'll lose the game," Mercy teased. DVa instantly started to stir with a passion much like she had in her games. "Much better. Keep it up and you'll advance to the next level."

A quick, dry kiss met her cheek. "Someone was sleepy," Mrs. Morrison teased.

"Where's my little Jacky?" She welcomed the chilled cup of coffee that fell into her hands. Breathing it in, she purred at that rich vanilla scent. Mrs. Morrison spoiled her and she knew it. She took several large sips, smiling more and more after each one went down.

"He went out fishing right at the crack of dawn."

Mid-drink, she stopped. Mercy's head swiveled to Mr. Morrison who was peeling potatoes next to Junkrat. "Uh?" Her brow quirked. "With who? Dad's over there." She pointed and Mr. Morrison waved lightly.

"Jacky demanded to go fishing with that guy with the mask." Mrs. Morrison tapped the backside of a spoon against her lips. "69?"

Mr. Morrison chuckled to himself.

Covering her lips, Mercy joined him. "76 but close enough," she said before wandering over to the sliding door. She didn't really like the idea of her son fishing with the mysterious 76 but... well, what could she do. They were already gone.

Drinking another sip of her iced vanilla-mocha coffee, she sighed happily while inspecting the view outside. The lawn was absolutely lovely; green as could be. Not too far out in it wandered Skippy. He was chasing a leaf, which made her smirk slightly to herself. Oh! There was a gust of wind, which caused the cowardly cat to sprint across the lawn and onto the porch. He jumped up on a chair and curled around himself. Nothing like a catnap, right?

Head turning just slightly to the side, she looked over at the horses that grazed peacefully in the shade of a large oak tree. Her lovely pinto looked healthy as ever, which caused her to smile. The newest horse, the offspring of Jack's old horse, stood beside her pinto (the mother). According to Mr. Morrison, that colt was a nasty little thing. It wouldn't let anyone near it. Apparently it had been that way for the past year. They spoke of selling it but just couldn't. It reminded them of their Jack too much.

Hand falling on her heart, Mercy sighed happily. She was so thankful to have such a wonderful family. Really, the Morrisons were her everything. They took her in and called her their own, even though she never married their Jack.

"MAMA, MAMA, MAMA," a voice echoed off the barn and house.

Sliding the door open, she stepped out. That's when she spied her little guy running as fast as he could with a big, plastic bucket in his hands. Water was sloshing out of it, which made her assume he caught a fish.

Eyes panning past the younger blonde, she caught 76 who was running after Jr and carrying an even bigger bucket. He was struggling with it too as he was also trying to balance the tackle box as well as the two fishing poles. He was doing a hell of a job too. It was also nice to see that he was responsible enough to keep a wary eye on her son. Maybe 76 wasn't that bad. Or maybe he just had a soft spot for kids?

Either way, both looked absolutely ridiculous.

Again, her hands moved to her lips. Stifling her laugh, Mercy moved toward the railing on the hand-made wooden porch. She leaned into it and shook her head.

Out of breath, Jr stopped at the foot of the stairs. "Ma-ma," he panted, "look." He set down the bright red bucket to pull out a-

"AAHHH!" Mercy's hands went flying, which sent the remaining coffee splashing every which way. "GET THAT _THING_ AWAY FROM ME," she screamed while moving to the other side of the deck. She needed to put as much space between her and that _monstrosity_.

But Jr wouldn't let her get away. Fat bullfrog still in his hands, he crept up the stairs with the frog at arm's length. The wry little grin on his face a surefire sign that he was enjoying this. "Oh mama, it's just a little froggie."

"THAT IS _NOT_ LITTLE," she set her mug on the railing before hopping over it. Safe on the side, she dropped down on the lawn below. The railing was her sanctuary. He was still too little to hop over it so he was trapped on that deck while she stood proud and safe on the ground.

"Where are you going," he moved closer to her, now dangling the frog over her head. That devilish look still in his eyes. He was up to something and she wasn't sure what it was.

Then, then _it_ happened.

That fat sucker kicked off his thumb, breaking free. The look on Jr's face proof that he wasn't expecting this to happen. Frog leaping forward, Mercy's eyes widened with fear as the oversize frog landed in h-

"AAAAAAH!" She shrilled while shaking her hands feverishly over her head. "GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!" She danced frantically as the bullfrog landed square on her head. It flopped around helplessly as she panicked.

With all her flailing, the damn thing managed to fall down her face and unto her chest. Just as slimy and gross as she remembered them to be. The screaming heightened to the point where Jr had to cover his ears. Granted, his laughing didn't stop. Nor did the fact that he needed to pee so bad because this was too funny! He was doing the 'I have to pee but don't want to leave dance' while waiting his mom freak out.

A pair of hands appeared around her breasts. Face flushing red, she looked up to see a masked man with a red visor dangerously close to her.

 _PERVERT!_

She wanted to scream pervert but the bullfrog wedged between his fingers was what kept the words from falling out. He wasn't groping her. He was saving her from the disgusting creature!

He was smiling. Laughing. She could hear him laughing from beneath that mask. Squinting her eyes, she growled. "You'll p-"

The frog jerked within his grasp. It managed to wiggle just enough to break free and land on the earth just before Mercy's nude toes.

The world froze.

All was silent as she stared down at that godawful creature. Then, after the dramatic pause, resumed her screaming.

"SAVE ME!" She howled before jumping right up into 76's arms. Lucky for her, his reflexes were impeccable. She wrapped around his from, legs kicking and arms clinging.

Snug and secure in his arms, she let out of breath of relief. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she kept repeating with a quivering voice. Her heart thundering within her chest as she was absolutely terrified that the frog would magically appear again.

"Uh," 76's head nodded toward her backside.

Mercy slowly turned her head to find the face of a fat-ass frog just inches from her own. Beads of sweat instantly grew on her forehead and all the color on her face vanished.

The screaming came again and Jr broke into a fit of laughs. Pushing the frog closer, he cackled. "Mama, it's just a little ol-"

"THERE IS NOTHING LITTLE ABOUT THAT DEVIL!" Recoiling, she burrowed back into 76's chest. It was soft, warm, and safe. And, most importantly, frog-less. Helped that he was so much taller so there was no way the frog could get to her now, especially as he rolled her up further!

"I think you've scared her enough," 76 finally said to Jr who only sighed with disappointment.

"But it's funny," he pleaded.

Mercy caught Jr's coy little smirk in 76's visor. She also saw his reflection wink.

 _Wink._

Why was he...

Mercy's cheeks flushed. Her palms were pressed against and parallel to 76's firm chest. She was touching _him_. She was in _his_ arms.

Was this all...

 _"JACK JR!"_ she bellowed while trying to squirm from 76's firm grip. _"WHY I'M GOING TO KILL YO-"_

The embrace was tranquilizing. Unexpected.

Pink lips falling apart, she turned her head to meet that familiar visor again. The red glare from it didn't help for it only made her cheeks look even redder. Granted, they were pretty red to behind with.

Gulping down a thick lump that formed in the back of her throat, she gingerly brushed her fingertips against his pecks. God, how had she not noticed how hot he was? Especially in this black Underarmor that revealed every rippling, sexy muscle. That leather jacket with the 76 didn't do him justice.

Just what did he look like under that mask, she wondered before chewing her lip.

Brushing back a loose strand of her hair, she turned her burning cheeks away. "Thanks," she muttered, still embarrassed that she fell right into their trap.

76 smirked before slowly letting her drop from his arms. When she was back on firm ground, the blonde woman retreated around his backside. Where was the frog, she wondered.

"Go put him in the pond over there," 76 instructed and Jr complied. As he ran with the slimy creature to the water, Mercy found herself admiring 76's backside.

He looked good in those cargo shorts. _Too good._

Tongue running over her lips, she thought back to the last time she was actually with someone. It was too long ago and with this _cool glass of water_ in front of her, she was really hoping that sexless streak would end soon.

"However can I reward you," she purred while stroking his spine. She'd be lying if she said she didn't notice his body shutter and then relax. He enjoyed that touch almost as much as she did.

"Re-ward... me?" 76 started to turn around, curious as to what she was implying.

"You saved me from the wretched monster." Her breath kissed his mask and he drank in her sweet vanilla-mocha scent. "I _owe_ you." Flitting her lashes, she smiled right up at his 6-1" form.

76 faltered. He wasn't expecting his. She was...was she hitting on him?

Gulping, he shrugged. "Just doing what's necessary. No need for thanks," he rattled off in an over-rehearsed tone.

 _"Uh-huh,"_ she stepped closer. Her fingers walked across his chest.

"Ma'am," his voice quivered.

"It's Angela," she corrected.

God, if he wasn't wearing that damned mask!

 _"Lunch is ready,"_ a familiar voice called from the deck. It was Tracer.

Mercy's cheeks burned red again. She had completely forgotten that their was an audience behind them. God, just how much had they seen? Everything?

"Heh," she whimpered before retreating toward the house that she had her back to.

She fanned herself a bit before taking a seat beside Mr. Morrison who, naturally, leaned into her. "You sure it's not _69_ ," he teased. She smacked him and he rubbed his sore arm. The way she smirked caused her to growl. Again, he laughed.

The door slid open behind her, which caused Mercy to look over her shoulder. A large, orange belly was now before her very eyes. "I see you found Skippy," she leaned back to take the cat into her arms. "Go wash your hands," she instructed.

The door opened again. This time 76 entered.

"C'mon," Jr took 76's hands into his own. "Mama says we gotta wash."

"Your mama's a smart woman."

They vanished down the hall.

"You know," Tracer took a seat across from Mercy, "he's not that bad. I was worried he would end up being a pain." She plopped her chin into her hands. "But he seems to have lightened up. A lot. I think Jr's helping."

"Jr does that," Mercy smiled. "He's always been able to bring out the good in people."

"Mama," Jr was back in the room. "Did you see all the fish we caught?"

She wore a flat expression. " _How_ could I? I was attacked by a frog."

"Oh yeah," he rubbed his foot against the back of his leg. "I forgot."

"How could you _forget_ that," she huffed.

Jr poked out his tongue before taking a seat. He patted off to the side of it. "You get to sit here," he said to 76.

76 just stood their. Baffled.

"Sit, sit," he instructed. "And take off your mask. No masks at the dinner table."

76 remained standing. He was starving but how could he eat with everyone. He couldn't show off who he was. Not now. Not ever.

Jr shook his head before running away. Seconds later, he came back with a pair of sunglasses and a ninja mask. "Put this on and I _suppose_ I'll let you wear the sunglasses inside." He was awfully cheeky. Damn kid.

Smirking, 76 took the black ninja mask that would cover his entire face, sans his mouth and jaw, as well as the sunglasses. Moving away from the crowd, he applied the new coverings. They weren't what he wanted, but at least he could eat with everyone now.

When 76 returned, Jr wore a large grin. "Better?" Jr knew he had won.

"Thanks," his hand ruffled Jr's blond hair. Taking the seat right next to the kid, 76's still-hidden face looked over at Mercy. "Smart kid," he added.

"He's clever like his father." She responded.

* * *

After lunch, came cleanup. Since 76 and Mercy both missed out on cooking, they were left to clean everything up. Everyone else went outside to either play volleyball in the back or lay in the sun and work on their tans.

Plunging her hands into the hot, soapy water, she began scrubbing away at the plates. Pulling a clean one from the water, she rinsed it with cold water before passing it off to 76.

This routine of Mercy washing and 76 drying started in silence until 76 finally spoke.

"Kid's quite the fisherman," he stately plainly.

Mercy looked up, a small smile on her face. "He's just like his father. Jack loved to fish; said it was the best way to get your mind off things."

"He's right," 76 commented, though added nothing more.

"So how many did you catch?"

"Enough to have fish tacos for lunch tomorrow."

"Mmmm!" Her eyes closed as she buzzed happily. "I haven't had those in forever." Her mind went back to the last time she and Jack made fish tacos after catching some fish. That day seemed like forever again. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized just how much she missed her golden haired hero. The glow in her eyes soon faded and a frown slipped onto her face.

"Something wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. It...it was just a meal Jack and I used to make." She looked broken. Sad.

Forcing herself to clear her mind, she started to work on cleaning the folks. The sponge dipped between the prongs before grazing over the flat surfaces. She would just focus on cleaning. Talking about Jack hurt, especially now that she was back home.

"We left around 6," 76 began. It caused Mercy to look up and over at him with quirked brows. "Fishing. Skippy went into your room and started to meow. Jr got up to feed him and saw me sitting on the front porch. He asked what I was doing; told him I wanted to go fishing but didn't know if I could." He smirked, it was visible on his face as he hadn't changed back to his own mask yet. "He took my hand and pulled me into the barn. Told me where everything was and said the wagon was broken. Told me we would have to carry our own buckets and poles all the way out there."

Setting down the dried fork, he moved onto another one. "I didn't think it would be a big deal so I said yes." 76 scoffed. "Your son _conveniently_ left out that it was a good 30-minute hike to the fishing hole." Shaking his head, he laughed lightly. "He was spry as ever. I was still trying to untangle the fishing poles that he twisted together."

"That's Jr for you," she purred. "He gets to excited and doesn't pay attention to the lines and how they cross."

"Oh trust me," 76 interrupted. " _I know_. The damn kid kept tossing his line over mine. I swear I spent half the time untangling our lines. The other half of the time, I was busy putting on worms or chicken."

"He does that. He throws the line so hard that the bait flings right off. Then he wonders why he can't catch anything."

"Oh no, he was catching stuff. He just didn't know how to reel it in fast enough. Kept losing his fish. Eventually decided that it didn't make sense for me to fish with his impeccable luck."

"So what did you do?" Mercy set down her sponge. Resting her rump against the counter, she watched 76 tell his story...

* * *

"What's your real name," Jr asked while leaning up against 76. "Real, real name. Not your Overwatch name." He happily kicked his legs that danged over the edge of the dock. As he was still short, his toes didn't touch the water yet. 76 on the other hand? The water came up past his ankles as he sat there on the dock.

There was no one in sight. This lake wasn't frequented as much as it used to be. The town had changed a lot since he had last been there. In five years, the population plummeted. It made sense though. With bandits, raiders, robots, Talon-whatever popping up all over the place, out in the middle of nowhere didn't seem as safe.

If only they knew it was probably the safest. If you had to assassinate a ton of people, you would go to a city. Not bumfuck nowhere.

"Well?" Jr's head rested against his ribs. "What is it?"

"Soldier 76." He responded.

"I said _real_ name. Your parents did not name you Soldier 76," he said in a robotic voice.

"No," 76 chuckled, "they didn't."

"So what is it really?"

"What would you like it to be?" 76 wasn't sure why he asked it, but it was too late to retract his question now.

"Hmmmm," Jr rubbed his chin, which caused his grip on the pole to loosen. Thankfully, 76 was on top of things so he grabbed it before it fell into the water. "Oops." Again, he rubbed his chin. "You know," his head snapped up to look at 76's hidden face, "I think it would be cool if you were named Jack."

"Like you?" 76 commented.

"Yeah," the kid nodded firmly. "We could be best friends. _Jack and Jack Jr!_ " He stood up, but realized his footing was far from perfect. To prevent himself from falling over, he planted a firm hand on 76's shoulder. "We could go everywhere together." His hands opened up above his head. "We could save the world and be heroes, just like my dad."

Wiggling his butt, Jr picked at a wedgie. Once fixed, he waddled over to 76 and plopped himself in the man's lap. "Can I call you Jack?" He rolled his head back against the man's chest. His large blue eyes staring 76 down.

"I'd be honored," 76 leaned forward to nuzzle Jr's nose with his mask.

"Teeheehee," the boy giggled before sighing happily. " _Jack_ ," his tone took a serious twist, "it this what it's like to have a dad?"

76 fell silent for a moment. His heart sunk and he felt a pit form in his stomach. This was torture. His beautiful son was sitting on his lap, confessing that he wanted to become a hero. He was a chip off the old block and he... he wasn't there for him. Instead, this kid thought he was dead and was now putting his love and faith into this mysterious 76, that he decided to nickname Jack.

Oh if only the little guy knew!

"Jack," Jr's eyes fell back on him again. The kid was smart, always knowing exactly where to look. It was as if his visor was invisible, and it caused 76 to shudder.

"Yeah," he finally said in a soft, airy voice. Holding the pole in one hand, he took the other and brushed it through his son's hair. "I think so."

Jr grew a smile. Again, his head fell against 76's chest. "Do you like my mama?"

The question came out of nowhere, which caught 76 off guard. He squirmed under the question, and Jr was quick to catch this gesture.

" _Ooooooh_ ," his lips rounded into a large circle. "You do, you do." His lips pushed together as a devilish shine gleamed in his azure eyes. "Mama and 76 sitting in a tree, _k-i-x-ing_."

His spelling was off but that didn't matter.

76 pulled back from Jr. He was trying to distance himself from the prying little bugger. How dare he get all cute and sappy! It was all a ploy. He was purposely breathing 76's heart to pop the real question- _getting his mom a husband_.

He managed to scoot out from under Jr, which caused the little blonde to laugh. "Ooooh you really do like her. You want to _kiss_ her?" He crawled along the wooden dock, easily catching up to 76 who was scooting across it on his rump. "You want to _hold_ her?" He was getting closer. "You want to _marry_ her," his little nose was just inches from his mask.

Then he stopped and sat back on his butt. "I know how to help." The words were nonchalant. It was disturbing how devious this five-year-old was. He was wicked smart. Clever and deceiving. The next James Bond.

" _How_ ," he was kicking himself for engaging in this conversation. But his feelings for Mercy still hadn't faded. If he stood a chance with Angela, this kid might just be the key.

"She hates frogs. I'll go get one and give it to her. She'll run away and look for someone to save her." He pointed right at 76. "And then you'll come in and save her."

76 laughed. "Really think that would work?"

"Yup!" He nodded. "Trust me. I know mama. She loves her heroes."

Hand moving forward, he ruffled Jr's hair. "Well if you're sure," he teased, "then I guess we have to give it a try."

"Trust me," Jr snickered, "it'll work."

* * *

Granted, 76 didn't share _all_ of his story. He went into detail about how they caught their first fish. And how he fell into the lake because Jr pushed him. He mentioned the water fight they had and how Jr wanted to bring home 3 bullfrogs but he insisted on just one. He purposely left out the part of the frogs and wooing her.

"Three?" Her eyes bugged out. "I think I would have died."

"I would have saved you," 76 didn't hold back.

Mercy caught this bold comment, which caused her to smirk. "Was that the plan?" She stepped forward, placing a hand on his chest once more. "I saw that little wink you two exchanged." Mercy leaned in more. "I know you two were scheming."

"Can you blame me," he answered confidently.

His quick, firm response caused her to smirk again. "Why if I didn't know better," her fingertips met his chiseled chest again, "I would say Soldier 76 has _me_ in his sights."

His sexy, side grin caused her to grin in return.

Heartbeat picking up the pace, she took one step closer to him. Rolling her head up, she rose onto her tiptoes. He leaned down some. His heart skipped a beat when he felt her warm breath wrap around his nude lips.

"Mama, mama!" The door flung open and the two adults pulled away. 76 nervously picked up an already dry plate and Mercy shoved her hands into the soapy water.

"Y-yes dear?" She pretended she was busy while turning her head to him.

His large, all-knowing blue eyes narrowed. "I might be five years old," he stepped closer, "but I'm _not_ stupid."

Mercy's facade broke. A sheepish grin crossed over her face. "Whatever could you mean?" she stammered out.

"I saw you looking at that dessert." He stepped closer. "Mama always sticks her fingers in the frosting and ruins grandma's hard work." He shook a finger at her before turning to 76. "Jack," he stated loud and clear, "it is your duty as a soldier to ensure she doesn't touch that pie. Got it?"

76 nodded firmly. "Understood, _Commander_." He saluted the boy who ran off down the hall to use the potty.

" _Jack_?" Mercy's brows furrowed.

"He didn't like calling me 76."

"But...why _Jack_?"

"Said he wanted us to have the same name." 76 shrugged. "Who was I to argue. Didn't want to upset him so I said yes."

The look of hope in her eyes fell. Sighing, her shoulders curled forward; she turned away to drain the sink. _"Oh."_

With her back to him, 76 moved behind her, engulfing her completely with his form. As he wrapped around her, she rolled right into his embrace.

"We should finish where we left off," his tongue ran along her ear.

A light moan followed as she pressed further against his firm body. It felt so wrong but so right at the same time. She had been missing this kind of contact. It just sucked that this was the house of her dead ex-boyfriend. The man who fathered her only child.

"We," she fought to say the words, "we shouldn't. Not here." She couldn't mar Jack's legacy by screwing some other man in _his_ home.

"I doubt he would mind," 76 whispered.

Oops.

Mercy's body jerked forward. Arms up, she pried her way out from 76's embrace. She wore a scowl on her face. He was just as bad as every one else. Only thinking about himself and not the complications that Mercy would have to endure. This was her _ex-lover's house_. It would have been her _ex-lover's bed._

Only 76 wasn't thinking like that. He was thinking, _his house, his bed_. He had momentarily forgotten that he wasn't Jack Morrison. That he was the mysterious Soldier 76.

Realizing his mistake, 76 reached a hand forward. "I-I... that's not what I meant." Could he save this?

 _SMACK!_

A hand landed across his cheek. If he was wearing his mask, he wouldn't have felt a damn thing. But the sting from her hand touching his raw flesh, well, he felt every inch of it.

Grunting, he rubbed the tender spot before catching the blonde running toward the screen door and then out on to the deck. "Mercy," he took a step forward. "Angela, wait. I, I can explain!" He rushed forward. Running out the open door, he paused on the deck.

Where did she run off to? It couldn't have been far.

A familiar whinny caught his attention. Eyes jerking to the horse pasture, he saw Mercy race off on her brown and white mare.

Moving toward the steps, he finally stopped. There was no way he could catch her on that thing. And his horse had passed away about a year ago so it wasn't like he could hop on his old partner and ride after her. That and it would be blatantly obvious that he was Jack Morrison. _The Jack Morrison._

Instead, he cursed under his breath and wandered back inside.

"She does that sometimes," the voice behind him caused his hair to stand on ends. "She'll be back though. She likes to ride the trails. Says it helps her." He shrugged. "So," he rung his hands together, "want to go fix that wagon in the barn with me?"


	4. Chapter 4: Unmasked

**Thank you to all you beautiful, wonderful, amazing people who told me I posted the wrong chapter. To prevent this in the future, I'll be labeling them with the chapter number instead of the name. So 4 instead of Unmasked because... well, apparently I can't tell the difference between Unmasked and Unexpected. Those _un_ s kill me, yo. **

* * *

Taking 76's hand into his own, Jr lead the white-haired male out back. He was swinging his arm happily, enjoying every second of this. He saw so many other father-son pairs do this kind of thing and now he could finally do the same. Er, well, other than it wasn't his dad but Jr didn't care. He just loved the idea of palling around with a man other than his grandpa.

Entering the side bay of the barn, he escorted Jack into the workshop. It was a large room, easily 30 x 40 in size. There was a large garage door on one side, the best way to get the Jeep or truck into the workshop without having to break something. There was also the main door, which lead to the heart of the barn.

The workshop was littered with tools and half-done projects. There was the start of a barrel for a gun sitting on one self. On other, it was the start of a much smaller project. An air-tight cage confined that project, preventing any dust from ruining all the hard craftsmanship.

Jack Morrison had always been a hands-on kind of guy. He liked to build things. He liked to tinker. He bought a busted up Jeep Wrangler and brought it back to life. He bought a broken tv off someone and learned how to get it working again.

The project in the tent? That was probably his favorite and likely the most mysterious of them all. It probably looked like he was making some sort of enhancement for his gun or car. But it wasn't. It was a small, circular item with diamonds gingerly placed long the sides in a pattern that flowed like the wind. It was supposed to be a promise ring. A reminder that, once they were done with Overwatch, he would marry her. Only, he never finished it. It was nearly done though; it just lacked its finishing coat.

Pausing as he walked past it, 76 shook his head. He was kind of glad he died. It wasn't his best work. Although, the more he looked at it, the more he liked it. It shimmered blue in the shade and orange-gold in the right light. Maybe he did a better job that he remembered.

"The wheel broke," Jr said while dropping 76's hand. Bounding up to the wagon, he pointed to the tire.

"That's not the wheel," 76 said while lowering into a crotch. "The front axle is broke." Standing back up, he moved beside the red wagon. It brought a smirk to his face. This old thing? It was still in one piece. How many times had he fixed it? How many times had he set Angela on it and gave her a good pounding? This thing was monumental; full of memories that could never be lost.

Ruffling Jr's hair, 76 wandered over to his old tool bench. Everywhere was where he last left it. It was as if time stopped here. No one moved on. Everyone still clung to the past hoping that, if they didn't disrupt it, he might return and resume where he left off.

If only...

The sound of a door being pulling close caused him to direct his gaze elsewhere. Sure enough, Jr was tugging the easy-pull handle for the bay door. It rattled to the ground before snuffing out the natural light.

"What's that for?" 76 plopped his hands on his hips.

"So you can take off that silly mask." Jr moved to another door and closed it. He also flicked the lights on, which popped and cracked as they came alive. Hopping up on a stool, he took out a large, black marker and scribbled across a piece of white paper. "If someone wants to come in, they have to say the password." On the paper, he wrote 'pazzud." Handing it to 76, he moved to get the tape. "You put it up. I still no good with the tape." He ripped a piece but ended up getting it stuck on his cheek and chin. "See."

Shaking his head, 76 opened the door and quickly taped up the sign. Back behind close doors in the secluded workshop in the barn he went. Only, he didn't take off his mask, something Jr was quick to point out.

"I promise, I won't tell no one." He crossed his hand over his heart. "Promise. You can trust me just like mama trusts me."

The idea of taking off his mask was unnerving. What if this kid figured it out? What if he told everyone? Would they believe him? Kids and their wild imaginations. But what if they did? Believed him that is. His cover would be blown and he would have a lot of explaining to do. And, truthfully, he wasn't sure he was ready for that.

"I..." 76 rubbed the back of his head.

"I _know_ you're my dad. You don't have to keep pretending." Jr puffed out his cheeks before turning his head away curtly. He was upset.

Shamefully, 76 turned his back to the kid. And silence filled the dusty workshop. The only sound was that of the incandescent lights that hummed and moaned as they fought to stay on.

"Why," Jr's voice was a meek whimper.

"Because I don't want to hurt you. Or your mother."

"Don't you love us?"

Backs still to one another, 76 felt tears swell up in his eyes. This was... this was harder than he thought. He didn't even know the little guy and he was already head over heels in love with him. He would give his life to save Jr. He'd give it all away just to see him smile. To see him grow old like his parents.

Unable to contain the tears, 76 broke into silent sobs. The mask around his cheeks absorbed most of the water but a few tears splashed against the tinted glasses that veiled his sad blue orbs. Dying was easy. Accepting the fact that you were a horrible father. That was hard. And it cut like a knife.

Why did he have to die? Why couldn't Overwatch have ended naturally? Whatever happened to those happy Disney endings? Was he not meant to find peace? Was he meant to suffer?

It was the path he choose to walk. On so many occasions, he sat outside Mercy's window. He watched her cry herself to sleep. He watched her aid people on the battlefield. He watched her work. He watched her grow.

But he never saw her give birth to his own flesh and blood. He never saw her reject every man that came into her life. He never saw her devote hours upon hours digging through that rubble to find the one she loved.

What kind of man am I? He wondered.

A warmth pooled around his thigh and knee. "Daddy, don't cry." A small head burrowed into his jeans, clinging to him for dear life.

Prying the shades from his face, he set them on the table before him before he took off the mask that wrapped around his face. As the loose strands fell limp against the dirt floor below, 76-or rather Jack Morrison-bent over his son.

Arms engulfing the little guy, he clung to him for dear life. He would never let go. He couldn't.

"I love you," Jr whispered in his ear. Tugging on Jack's hair, Jr's arms found his way around Jack's neck. Up, up into the air he went. The kid's legs wrapped around Jack's torso as his face fell into the soft spot between his shoulder and neck.

Head rolling up some, Jack fought to keep the tears from falling down his cheeks. Flitting his lashes at least a dozen times, he kept those tears of both joy and sorrow at bay. This was their moment. His moment to be strong; to show Jr he had no regrets.

But he had regrets. A lot of them too.

Jack's hands snaked around Jr's back, coddling his head and supporting his rump with the other. Pushing his nose into Jr's golden locks, a long, soft kiss pressed against the boy's head. "I love you too," he whispered right back, which caused Jr to grip his shirt even tighter.

They probably stayed like that a good five minutes. Just in each others arms, drinking in the scent and touch of one another. It was the first time they'd ever hugged. The first time they'd ever confessed their love for one another. Hell, it was the first time together, knowing that each other existed.

"Daddy," his wet nose left slimy marks against his shirt and neck, "does mama know?" Pulling back one hand, he dragged it across his teary blue eyes.

"No," Jack confessed. "She doesn't."

Adjusting Jr so both his hands supported the kid's weight, he smiled down at his beautiful son. Nuzzling noses, his lips met Jr's forehead again. Another kiss. Only this time, Jr returned the gesture but seizing Jack's face right between his hands and giving him a big, old kiss right on the cheek. It was wet. It was sloppy. It was perfect.

"Why not?" His head tilted to the side.

Jack hesitated. It was a good question, one he kept asking himself.

"You're scared," Jr presumed when his father said not a word.

"Yeah..."

Jr shook his head before wearing a smug grin on his face. "I thought mama said nothing scared you." He leaned in closer so his eyes were just inches from Jack's. It completely blurred Jack's vision, but the little guy was just so damn cute so he refused to pull back.

"What if she doesn't like me anymore?"

Jr punched Jack square in the forehead. "You stupid?" His fingers curled around Jack's ears. Jr tugged on them real good before shaking his head. "Ma was wrong about you." Squirming, he was put back on the ground. "You stupid."

"Well that's not very nice," Jack chided. He wasn't sure what brought this comment about and it was a rather annoying one at that.

"You're not nice. Not telling mommy who you really are." The blonde kid wiggled a finger at him. "Chicken, chicken." His arms folded beneath his armpits. "Bawk, bawk. Chicken, chicken. Dad's a chicken."

"I am not," Jack's brows furrowed. Then his arms crossed over his chest.

"Bawk, bawk. You can't even tell mommy you love her. That makes you a chicken." The gleam in his eyes boiled Jack's blood. This little brat was just as bad as he was. And wicked smart like his mother. Jr was the perfect monster. Too clever and cocky for his own good. Just what had he and Angela created?

"Baaaaawk," he strutted around while keeping a keen eye on the ex-commander.

Ah yes. They created a chicken.

"That's it," Jack lurched forward. Arms worming their way into Jr's pits, he started to tickle the kid. In seconds, the abrupt bark of laughter filled the area. He began howling, begging for mercy.

"Haaaalp," he would plead while trying to squirm away. "Staaaap!"

"Who's the chicken now," Jack teased before eventually twirling the kid back up into his arms.

Jr's finger caved in Jack's nose. "Still you."

"But why?" Jack quivered his lip.

"You no tell mommy."

"Tell her what?"

"That you love her." Jr started to kick again so Jack set him back on solid ground. "You tell her you love her and I'll keep your secret."

"What?!" Jack gasped, purposely dramatic as could be. "You wouldn't dare."

"I do. I'll tell everyone you're bawk chicken Jack Morrison, my poopoo dad."

"Wow," Jack's hand scratched his golden head. "Bawk chicken poopoo dad." His lips curled back in disgust. "Not sure I want _that_ title getting thrown around." He itched his scalp again. "So all I need to do it tell your mom I love her?"

"Nope-yes."

"What the heck kind of answer is that."

"Nope-yes. It means nope but yes. You have to tell her you love her but you can't tell her as that other guy. He's poopy."

"You don't like 76?"

"No. He cool."

"What?" Jack's hand fell on his hip. But he just said he didn't like the other guy.

"I like him. Mommy likes you."

"We're the same person."

"Well duh." Jr rolled his eyes.

"Don't duh me," Jack waggled a finger at his son.

"You have to tell mommy you love her and who you are. That you're daddy. My daddy." The kid was quick to drop the subject. Wandering over to the wagon, Jr pointed at it. "So can you fix it?"

" _Duh_ ," Jack mimicked.

"Don't _duh_ me," Jr said coyly in return.

* * *

Brow drenched with sweat, Jack hobbled back a few paced before running his hand through his now matted white locks. Jr was equally as pooped, having spent the entire time holding things or heavy fetching tools. For being a simple fix, it turned into a half-day project. Not only did they mend the axle, but they also stripped the wood and gave it a fresh coat of paint. Jr insisted it be blue, his favorite color. They also removed all four tires and put on four new ones. Oh, and one must not forget the new feature. The wagon now had hooks on the outside. Hooks that perfectly cradled the fishing poles. Never again would someone get stuck holding those damn things.

"High five?" Jr picked at his nose while turning to Jack.

"Not after that," Jack teased before ruffling Jr's oily hair.

"You don't like boogers," he said while wiggling his gooey finger at his father.

"Not one bit," he quipped before getting a towel to pat them both down with. Sweat whisked away and wagon ready, Jack cracked a large grin. "We make a good team, eh buddy?"

"The best team," Jr purred back gleefully. "Just think, if you stayed, we could fix everything." He pointed over at Skippy, who had joined them about an hour ago. He spent most of that time sleeping or purring. Or doing a mix of both. "We could even build him a house."

"Whoa," the Overwatch member held up his hands. "Let's not get crazy here. We both know Skippy needs a castle."

"Prince Skippy," Jr swept into a bow.

"Our lord and savoir," Jack joked.

Just then, the door creaked. As it moaned, Jack swiftly pivoted on his heel. Where was that damn mask? His hands frantically searched the counter. He had completely forgotten he dropped it on the floor and that it was now covered in dust and hay.

"No need," a familiar voice called out. "I think I know my son when I see him." The voice was guff, filled with a bit of annoyance. It was true, a father never forgets his son. 76 was the same height, same build. Shared similar mannerisms, the big one being how he held his fork and knife. He did it the British way-reversed. He also smirked at his jokes, something only his son would do. And let's not forget that he caught 76 giving Skippy treats from a location that only he and Jack knew about. He did assume that the mask and eye coverings were to prevent his parents, him, from figuring out the truth. He wasn't stupid. None of the Morrison's were.

"Well don't leave me hanging. Turn around you big coward." Mr Morrison shifted his weight so it sat against the door he entered. "And while you're at it, explain the white."

Jack's nails dug into scalp as he fought to turn around. Reluctantly, he did and saw the cocky old smirk that sat plain as dad on his dad's face.

"I dyed it..."

" _Duh_ ," Mr Morrison said while kicking off the old wooden door. "But why?" He immediately closed the space between he and his son. Hand reaching out, he plopped it right on Jack's shoulder. A good, firm squeeze followed. "To make me think you're older than me?" He cackled. "I might be old, but I'm still wise as ever. Hell, maybe even wiser."

"Wait," Jack's lips broke into a grin, "you were wise?"

SMACK!

A hand landed right across the back of his skull.

"Wise ass."

"Language!" Jack chided.

"Oh he's heard worse," the old man said while winking at Jr.

"You're a horrible influence."

"Am I?" His dad's smile spread across his face. "Because I think I'm doing a damn fine job raising my grandson. Smart and sly, just the way I like them. Who do you think slips me cookies when ma's not looking?"

"You're _definitely_ a terrible influence." He pinched the bridge of his nose while shaking his head. It explained so much about Jr. His defiant nature. His cocky attitude. Not to mention his ability to sniff out the truth; to unmask things.

"Well stop standing there shaking your head," Mr Morrison stated gravelly. "Get over here and give your old man a hug."

Without hesitation, their arms fell around each other. Heavy exhales followed and before long, Mr Morrison was crumbling into a weeping mess.

"Dad," Jack's softer expressions bore right into the old man's soul.

"I thought I lost you Jacky." He refused to release his son. "I buried you. We all did."

"Not me!" Jr was quick to jump in. "Mom hadn't pooped me out yet."

The tears stopped flowing. Or rather, they shifted. No longer sad, tears of entertainment dotted the corners of their pretty blue eyes. Both men laughed those deep, good, ab-killing laughs.

"What?"

"Stay young." Jack's hand reached out to pat Jr on the head.

"I don't get it. What's so funny?" He looked between the two laughing men.

"It's good to see you, son." Mr Morrison's hands landed right on Jack's shoulders again. "It's good to hear you laugh. See you smile. But," he waved the air between he and Jack, "but boy do you smell. Take a shower would ya?"

Arms raised and look of 'are you fucking serious' on his face, Jack shook his head. "Can't wait to put that in the book. Dad discovers I'm alive. First words out of his mouth-you smell bad."

"Well it makes sense."

"How so?"

"Ain't you supposed to be dead?"

"Ha. Ha." Jack's lips were taut and expressionless. "No one's laughing."

"Sure they are. We all know I have the best jokes. Who do you think you got your charm from? It ain't your ma, boy." He winked before nodding toward the door. "Now you two clean up. Ma said dinner's ready."

"Ang back yet?"

The frown on his face was a good answer.

"She'll be home soon." Mr Morrison's hands wormed into his pockets. "She always comes back to the sweet smell of ma's pie."

"Who wouldn't?"

Tossing Jack a rag, Mr Morrison nodded. "I'll take the kid. You go in the front and right into the bathroom. I assume you're hiding your face for a reason. And it better not be because you're too damn scared to tell Ang."

"No," he shook his head while a sheepish expression came over his face. "Never."

"Uh-huh."

And like that, the three Morrison men went to clean up.

His secret was out and, truthfully, it was a great weight off his chest. He was surprised at how easy it was though he knew that Jr was his saving grace. Caught alone with his father... oi, Jack would get a lecturing. Not just a little one either. One of those whole day, we're taking the truck out to talk, lectures.

"Tomorrow's going to be fun," Jack commented to himself. He wasn't looking forward to it. But, then again, he kind of was. It would be nice to catch up with his dad again.


	5. Chapter 5: Chopping Block

The shower was nice. Nice and cold, just the way he liked it after sweating up a storm in the dim-lit workshop. As he pulled back the curtain, Jack was quite surprised to see a pile of neatly folded clothes-fresh and clean-waiting for him. Brow quirked, he wondered where his old set went.

 _Mom?_

But she didn't know.

 _Dad._

He shook his head. Some habits die hard, he supposed. Mom was always the cook. Dad was always the cleaner. It seemed like an odd dynamic, but it worked. Jack always figured he got more of his traits from his father-the tinkerer, the cleaner, the joker, the too stubborn to quit. That last one was what got the two of them into more trouble than either would ever admit.

After drying off with the lovely forest green towel with golden designs on one end, he moved to the sink. He would have to think about dying his hair again. The golden roots were starting to show, which caused him to grimace. Why didn't dye last longer? They said in 2030, things would be better. They weren't. There was no hair revolution.

Wait, was he really talking about hair?

Running a hand over his head, he combed his hair into place. It couldn't be anything fancy as he didn't want people to realize he did indeed care about his hair. That was a Jack Morrison thing, not a Soldier 76 quirk. 76 was lazy, uninterested in looks. Jack Morrison? He was all about looking great because if you look great, you feel great. That and he couldn't stand dirty and disgusting. Three showers a day was a-okay in his book!

The briefs and pants came first. This time, he wore a pair of navy cargo pants instead of the coal colored jeans. For a top, his father left him with a white muscle shirt.

 _Jerk_.

There was no way he could wear this. But... he slipped it on. Just to humor himself. Flexing his arm, Jack's grin grew until it seized his entire face.

There was no way Angela wouldn't be impressed. She loved his arms; always begged him to show them off more. He was still as fit as ever. Perhaps a bit slimmer, but it helped with dexterity.

Lathering on the deodorant and then stealing his father's cologne, he went for the door. Engaging it, it came to a jarring halt.

 _My mask!_

Stepping backwards, his hands found their way to the black mask with the red visor. Once snug and secure, he tried again. Take two, as he called it. Only this time, he actually left.

"Pa says you need to go chop wood with him." Jr was impatiently waiting outside the door. "I want to help but grandma said I have to set the table... boo."

Jack ruffled his son's hair. "Thanks, bud." The words brought a large, cheeky smile to Jr's face. With a firm nod, the kid ran off down the hall to aid those stationed in the kitchen.

Knowing exactly where the woodpile was, Jack moseyed out of the house and eventually stepped up around the backside of the barn. There was a nice lip that would keep the wood dry, should it rain. And, from the scent in the air, it smelled like it was going to be one hell of a storm.

"Well don't just stand there," a flash of silver flew toward Jack. With a dull thud, it landed in the grass just inches before his boots. "Get chopping."

Bending, he un-wedged the ax and stepped over to the chopping block.

"You listen. I'll talk."

It was a good thing dad couldn't see his face. That would have started an even longer-winded lecture.

"Got it, _soldier_?" The man's steel-blue gaze narrowed.

"Sir, yes, sir."

It was their thing. Whenever Jack got in trouble, his father would become a drill sergeant. Kind of. He would more or less berate his son for doing things he deemed stupid. If Jack talked, he would make him stop whatever mind-numbing task he was assigned and demand the blonde give him 20. It's one of the reasons Jack was so capable. As a teen, Jack had to give a lot of 20s. At least 100 a day.

"What kind of son makes his own parents bury him?" Dad began. "You know how much that killed us. All of us. Your mom, me. Ang. We had no idea that she was even pregnant with your child until after the funeral. It was one of those accidental things. Mom saw her sitting their, clinging to your grave. She kept muttering, 'You can't do this to me. You can't make me to do this alone.' Ma was confused. What couldn't Ang do alone? She was always one hell of a woman-we kept telling you to pop the question-but apparently you were too busy _plowing the fertile soi_ l."

CRACK!

The chunk of wood split apart and clattered to the ground. Blade caught in the chopping block, Jack's red visor locked with Mr Morrison's blue gaze. His body tensed, peeved at the snark little comment.

"Make another comment like that," Jack growled.

"I said _I_ talk. _You_ listen. Drop. Now." His finger pointed at the grass as his gaze hardened. "Now!" He grunted again.

Complying, Jack fell to all four. It took him not even a minute to pound out 20 push-ups. When done, he popped right back up and pried that ax from the wood. Finding another piece, he set it down and whaled at it.

CRACK!

It split with ease and he tossed the split ends into the wheelbarrow.

"Your mom asked her what she was rambling on about. She told her she was 4-months pregnant. That she was looking to tell you _that day_ that she was carrying _your_ child. But she never had a chance."

Jack turned his head to the side. He had no idea she was that far along. It definitely explained Jr's existence though.

"We couldn't just leave her there. We took her in. Took her home. She stayed with us until the baby was born. Stayed with us long after that too. Until she grew restless. Seeing Jr killed her. She kept it together though, but we could all see how much it killed her. I told her it was time to get back to doing her thing. Your mom didn't agree but Ang needed to get out of the house. She needed to find peace. And her kind of peace is found in saving people. She couldn't save you. But she could save others."

Jack tossed more chopped wood into the wheelbarrow. It started to look full so his next set would go to the wood pile for later use.

"You know she hasn't bed another man since you."

His attention swiveled back to his father.

"Jack, she loved you. _Loves_ you. She said she'll never find a better man. Would rather be a single mom than try to find a replacement.

"It kills your mother too. Ang is so young. So beautiful. And here she is, being a widow. She doesn't complain. She never will. She's tough like that. And we love her but we also want her to find someone. Someone to care for her and Jr. We won't live forever."

"Don't say that," Jack interrupted. His voice meek, hating the idea of one day having to bury his parents.

Dad didn't seem to care that he spoke. Instead, he just chuckled. "Trust me, it's harder to bury a son than it is your old man. I've lived a long, full life. Done many things that have made me proud. Seen a lot. You? You were still a kid."

For a moment, there was silence.

"That wood ain't going to chop itself," he finally broke the silence and Jack went back to chopping.

"Your mom...I'm worried about her. You need to tell her you're alive. She might finally flush those pills down the drain."

His head snapped back up.

"You didn't snoop?" His dad shook his head. "Ma's on heart pills. Also blood medication. She has to go in once a month. They're worried she's going to have a heart attack or something far fancier sounding than that."

Jack's hands tightened around the handle of his ax. When his knuckles finally turned white, he hoisted the large blade above his head before slamming it down. It cleaved perfectly into the thicker piece of wood, splintering and then eventually falling apart into three distinct pieces.

"You're also a lousy father. Remember Jimmy? You know how you said you hated how his dad was never around. Well guess what, you're just like that. You promised yourself that you would never be the kind of man to abandon family. Well," his dad's dry, harsh tone cut into Jack, "congrats son. You did what you hate the most. Abandoned family. All of them. Mom and I. Ang and your son. Even Overwatch. Don't you think they deserve the truth. Answers. Closure."

His hands were now pinned against his chest as his voice rose. "You really think your mom wants to lay on her death bed knowing she'll be joining her son in heaven only to find out he's not there. You really want your little magic trick to go with you to your grave? Don't want to let anyone in? Good ol' Jack, always keeping up his wall so he can never get hurt. What do you have? Some agenda? Need to expose the truth? Because trust me, no truth is worth this."

Jack's shoulders rolled forward. This lecture was going just as he predicted and each lashing from his father's mouth just hurt him more. He was a lousy son. A lousy father. And an even lousy lover.

"You _have_ to tell Ang. If you don't tell mom, fine. But you have to tell Ang. You owe it to her. You knocked her up and then left her high and dry. And because she's such a noble woman, she always sends a portion of her check our way. We tell her we don't need the money, but she does it anyway. What kind of woman devotes everything to helping others, saving the world, and providing more than enough resources for her son and son's grandparents? She doesn't owe us anything. She was never yours. Just a little side fling gone too far."

"She was _not_ a _side fling_." Jack peeled the gloves from his hands. "I told you to drop it." He was going for his mask next.

"You fucked a naive woman with big dreams. Got her pregnant. Died. Only to not be dead. Instead, you're running around as a goddamn vigilante. Probably boasting your skills. Probably fucking whoever yo-"

The air was kicked from him as the old man's back was forced against the barn's sturdy wall. Before him, stood a maskless Jack with probably the darkest scowl he'd ever seen his son wear. He was still hunched forward from the solid shove he gave his dad. And from the way he stood, he looked like he was ready to do it again.

"Leave _Angel_ out of this." His voice was laced with malice. Clearly Angela, Mercy, was still a sore subject. "I had _no_ idea she was pregnant. You honestly think I would be running around with that mask on if I knew I had a little boy." Jack's gestures were exaggerated and rippled with anger. "You really think I would go through all this just to- _-as you said_ -fuck another woman." His brows furrowed, causing a large wrinkle to form between his brows. "You have _no_ idea. She's safe because of _me_. I've been assigning all her deployments. She _always_ lands in places I've recently cleared out. I would _never_ hurt her."

Lips pulling back into a snarl, Jack turned his back to his father to retrieve his gloves and mask. "If you knew a damn thing about me, you'd know I had every intention of marrying her." The mask clicked against his face. "I wasn't going to Switzerland for another evening of 'playing between the sheets,' like you'd like to believe." He grit his teeth. "I was going to ask her to _come with me_. I wanted to fly her to the States. To here. I had been working on a ring. I wanted to make her something special. Something small. Something that wouldn't interfere with her work."

His father finally pulled from the wall and limped forward a bit. "That tented area in the workshop..." His face wore a ghost. Shame lapped over him, as did guilt. He was just berating his son for banging a woman as if it were the 1920s and Jack had every intention of actually marrying the blonde doctor. "Jack...I had no idea."

CRACK!

Another piece fell victim to Jack's chopping block.

"Tell her," his father's hands were gingerly falling against Jack's fist-wielding pair. "You have to. She'll forgive you. I've forgiven you. Jr's forgiven you. You know she will."

"Doesn't matter," he averted his gaze. "I can't forgive me. And I'm not sure I can stop what I've begun. I'm just... I'm a letdown. I don't deserve this. Her."

"You don't have to do this alone." The worry on his lip a surefire sign that Mr Morrison cared deeply for his son. "Son," he finally got Jack's eyes back on him, "you're many things but you've never been a letdown. I know... I know we fight a lot but..." He had to collect his breath. "I'm proud of you. Of the man you became. You make me so proud. You weren't a farmer's son. You were a hero. My hero. I loved going into town and telling everyone, 'Yup, that's my boy.'" The tears in his eyes were as real as the ax in Jack's hand. "You were a chip off the old block. Everything I could have dreamed of. No, more than that."

Beneath the visor, tears were starting to drip down Jack's face. His father was never the kind of man to dish out compliments. This was rare. And it moved him.

Releasing the ax, he stepped forward to hug his father. Silently, they stood there.

They had their differences but they had their similarities too. Both stood 6-1" (though dad was shrinking due to age) and had sun-kissed blonde hair and bright blue eyes. They had broad shoulders and a tough build. They were meant to endure. Both were stubborn asses, always in competition with one another. They both loved deeply but hated to show it. Their jokes were probably the worst, but they found them absolutely brilliant. And, most importantly, they loved each other. Never said it. But both knew it true.

"I told you so." The old man finally said with a raspy voice.

Jack quirked a brow.

"Reyes. I said he was no good. Told you he'd come between you and Ang."

Jack punched him lightly. "You get to push the wheelbarrow."

"Why?"

"For ruining the moment." Jack chuckled just loud enough to his father to catch.

"I suppose I did. But I did tell you he was bad news. I said he was a rotten tomato and, as a tomato farmer, I think I know a bad one when I see one." He snickered when he saw Jack roll his arms in the air. "Just trying to steal your girl, I know. I had a friend like that once too. But the good guy always wins." He winked.

Grabbing the handles of the wheelbarrow, he and Jack made their way back to the house.

* * *

The sky was now a dark, navy blue and the echoing call of thunder rattled the barn. Picking up their pace, they raced toward the house. The sound of rain on a tin roof soon filled the air.

Just a few steps more!

"Made it," the old man panted just as the rain started to really come down in waves. It was pouring cats and dogs. No, more like hippos and cows.

"Speak for yourself," Jack chided. Sure enough, every inch of him was soaked. From head to toe, the rain continued to pelt against him as he stood just inches from the protective roof.

Chuckling, Mr Morrison grabbed some of the wood and brought it into the house. "Get some more and get in the kitchen. I'm sure everyone's waiting for us. If you're lucky, that kid of yours saved you a spot next to that pretty lady you better consider marrying."

"Stop," Jack huffed. He was joking but still didn't like the idea of his dad having the upper hand here.

* * *

Once all the wood was put in its proper place, Jack-or rather 76 now-walked into the kitchen. He paused in the door frame when he noticed a certain someone was missing.

"Mercy not back yet?"

Tracer's sad eyes found his. "We even called the ranger. They said it's not safe to go looking for her."

"Don't worry," his mom's voice was laced with concern, "Ang is a smart girl. She'll wait it out and be back in the morning."

"But her horse..." 76 took a step back. It had returned. It was out in the pasture.

"What about it?" Jr asked. Confused as to why 76 would mention the horse.

"It's in the pasture."

Just then, Tracer vanished. Seconds later, she was back. "He's right. Her horse is here." She sped away again. "But she's not here," she said reappearing behind 76.

"That's because you're too fast. Jamie," DVa turned to Junkrat, "wanna race the barn? We'll see if she's in there. Maybe she just got back?" The Aussie nodded and ran off after the spunky brunette.

"Want to look with me in the house?" Lucio asked Mei and Zarya. The three of them vanished.

Pharah was putting on her wings. "I won't go far," she promised. "Just going to see if I can spot her from the barn roof." McCree said he would check the shed and garage.

Mrs Morrison shook her head. She eventually left the kitchen to check the cellar to see if she was downstairs putting her wet clothes in the dryer.

"Okay, coast is clear." Jr hopped from his chair and ran up to 76 and his grandpa. "What's the plan?"

"Get your gear," his father instructed. "I'll go pack you a bag."

"What do I do?" Jr's nose wiggled much like that of a bunny.

"When everyone get back, you have to distract them long enough for your dad to get a horse and ride out of here."

"Where will you be?"

Mr Morrison cracked a smile. "I'm going to be 'watching' tv."

The three men nodded.

"Meow." Skippy's fluffy form jumped up on the table beside the plotting Morrison men.

"Operation Alpha Charlie Skippy is a go." 76 joked before running with his father to fetch proper gear.

* * *

"Be careful," his father warned. "The old pass is getting worn. Might be best not to ride the horse through that part."

"What about the red vines pass?"

"Good call." He punched his son lightly. "Look at you remembering things."

"I'm not the one that's going to be turning 80 soon."

"Can it, kid. I can still ground you."

Hugs were exchanged.

"Dad," Jr walked up to him with Skippy in tow. "Bring back mama." He paused. Brows furrowing, he chewed his lip. "I heard it on tv: If you don't find her, don't bother coming back at all."

Jack swooped down to pat his blonde kid on the head. "Don't worry, bud." His fingers slipped between Jr's soft hair. "I'll find her." Pulling away, he rushed the door frame. He would have one shot. He was ready. It was almost time.

"Dad," Jr broke his focus. "Heroes never die." Jr smiled up at him before retreating into the kitchen, ready for his role.

"Don't mess this up," his father stated while hunkering down into his chair. Tv on, he nodded. "And please tell her. If you don't, I will."

He nodded before falling silent in the shadows.

* * *

"No dice," Lucio said running into the kitchen.

"I didn't see her either," exclaimed Pharah.

"Nothing in the barn either," Junkrat added.

"Same with the shed and garage," McCree frowned.

"And I didn't see her in the cellar either..." Mrs Morrison's hand fell against her chest. "Oh heavens," tears swelled in her eyes. "I pray the storm has mercy on her."

Tracer's hand comforted her for a moment before she realized someone was missing. "Wait. Where's 76?"

All heads swiveled to the empty door frame.

Just then, a "Yeah ha!" drifted from the barn.

All bodies moved toward the sliding door or windows to catch the number 76 ride off toward the vast wilderness where Mercy was last seen. The further out he rode, the harder his bright red number was to see.

"No no no," Mrs Morrison moved to the door and flung it open. She couldn't contain her tears. Pharah was quick to catch the faltering woman and aided her back inside. "I can't lose her," she repeated. "I just can't."

Much to everyone's surprise, McCree spoke. "If anyone can find your should-be daughter-in-law, it's him."

Mrs Morrison's brows furrowed. Her husband soon joined her; wrapping arms around the woman.

"He was on his own long before he joined us. Surviving on his own in conditions far worse than this." His tanned face turned toward the Morrisons. "If anyone can find Angela, it's that soldier."


	6. Chapter 6: Chasing Butterflies

The rise and fall lulled her into memories of happier days. Of days when she and Jack would purposely get lost out in these mountains, if you could call them that, just so they could spend long hours enjoying just each other.

These hills? They kept communication at bay. So few people lived out in Wayne County that cell service was about as scarce as the people here. And the rolling hills of Hoosier Hill, Indiana's highest natural point, was a favorite place to explore. They made it safe. Secure. Theirs.

 _Theirs_.

Kicking herself, Angela let a word dirty her lips.

"Fuck."

She was upset with herself. Who was she to flirt with the masked stranger at the house of her deceased boyfriend? Who was she to feel him up in front of her should-be parent-in-laws? Who was she to... to...

Her hands flew out to either side as she grunted into the air. "UGH!" Her hands few up into her loose bangs, twisting and pulling them. She was letting her angst out. Let her anger consume her. She rarely was allowed to feel these type of emotions, especially so freely. So she delved into them. Let them consume her whole.

Shaking feverishly, she grit her teeth while doing all she could do destroy Soldier 76. He came onto her. He was the one man-handling her. Ruining her. Tainting her. And in the house of her ex-lover. He was the one to blame. He should have known. He had to have known. And yet, there he was, tossing the idea of bedding her around.

She barked again, before she eventually tugged at her taut cheeks.

"Fuck you, Soldier 76," she screamed into the hills. In no time, her echo bounced back at her, swallowing her. Causing her to growl. "FUCK YOU!" She screamed again.

He was no Jack Morrison. He would never be Jack Morrison. Her Jack Morrison.

76 was just a dirty man hellbent on using a woman. Hurting a grieving widow. A woman who invited him in and would soon kick him out.

"When I get back," her white knuckled punched her thigh, "I'm going to tell him to go." She snorted while nodding firmly. "He's not welcome. Not anymore."

The horse beneath her seemed to sense her pain and leisurely fell into a quaint trot. Usually, it would have run, but it could feel her tears falling into its warm fuzz.

As its hooves unearthed the ground below, the scent rushed her senses. It sent her head spinning, recalling yet again more memories.

"Lightning," her hand danced over the soft fuzz of the horse's mane, "I miss him." The tears no longer dammed within her lids, crashed down and over her cheeks. "I miss him so damn much!"

Lightning came to a complete stop. Lightly, the horse nipped at Angela's bare toes.

"Stop it," she swatted at the gentle giant. "Stop it," she caught herself giggling. "Oh Light," she ran her fingers down the long white and brown locks, "you always know how to make me feel better."

Off the horse she slid. Walking around to the mare's front side, she butt her forehead right up against the horse's. "I bet you miss him too." Her hands instinctively went to making braids. "Both of them. My Jack and your Thor."

The pinto seemed to catch her drift and her ears immediately drooped. "Yeah, you do miss him, don't you." Rubbing the massive chin, she planted a firm kiss right between Lightning's eyes. "I know." She whispered a few more times. "I know."

Taking in her surroundings, Angela knew she had maybe wandered about 7 miles from the house. It wasn't far enough for her troubled soul but the lake off to her right still captured her attention. Perhaps she'd linger here a bit longer, reliving fond memories of times she and Jack would spend all day fishing.

 _And kissing._ Her cheeks blushed a furious pink.

Flopping down on the soft grass beneath her nude toes, she sighed happily. "I remember the first time he took me fishing." She turned her head up to look at her horse. "Oh, it was truly something."

* * *

"You're holding that wrong." He tried not to laugh but the growing grin on his face made it impossible. Finally, a chuckle squeaked out.

Her cheeks flared as a crossed look marred her face. "Well don't _just_ laugh and _show_ me what I did wrong!" She was already sick of this whole fishing idea. How could it be fun. They got up before the crack of dawn to unearth worms.

 _Worms_.

Gross, slimy, nasty worms.

Angela was many things. But she was not the kind of woman to appreciate worms, frogs, and the like.

Operate on someone bleeding out? No problem. Lop off an infected leg to prevent the spread of a serious infection? She could do that. Put someone out of their misery? Who wouldn't!

Rip a lanky, slippery earthworm from the soil? Nope!

Nope, nope, nope!

And Jack made her do just that. Saying that if she couldn't get 10 worms of her own, she would have to fish with her toes. And, not knowing a damn thing about fishing, she feared the water dwellers would munch off her toes and leave her with toe-less feet. So, she managed to stomach the idea of worm pulling. And she hated every second of it.

Literally, every second of it.

And if collecting worms wasn't bad enough, she learned that she couldn't use a whole worm. She had to rip them in half.

Rip them. In half.

With her fingers.

 _Her_ fingers.

She wanted absolutely nothing to do with that. So, again, Jack made her a deal. If she could rip three worms in half, he would do the other seven.

"First you make me get up early. Then you make me dig for worms. Next I had to rip them in half. And now you're telling me I'm holding this thing upside down?" She huffed, already exhausted and it wasn't even 8AM yet. "What's next? That I have to put the worm on the hook!" She growled before admitting defeat. "Jack, I'm not sure I'm cut out for t-"

His tender touch caused her skin to ripple with nerves. Cheeks red hot from his hand on her own, she bashfully stared at him. She was like a deer caught in the headlights. Frozen and unsure what to do.

He was...he was touching her. Touching. Her.

As his hands helped hers reverse the position of the pole, he walked around her backside. In no time, his chest voided the gap between them. His warmth pooled into her, causing her cheeks to flush a darker shade of red.

"J-J," she began to stammer.

His lips tickled her neck until they planted a tender kiss right beside her collarbone.

Now her ears were red and her whole body felt like it was ready to combust.

Spontaneous human combustion. She was certain it was possible and all because of this man. All because of the way he held her. Because he made her feel alive. Hot like a fire on the coldest of winter nights.

And she wanted more. More of this. More of him.

"Like this," his voice a sweet whisper in her ears.

Escorting her hands, he helped her dive into the bucket of dirt and worms. Softly, they pawed at the soil together until a fragment of a worm became exposed. Gently, they pulled it from its home and skewered it with the point of the hook. Again, he poked the worm with the hook.

"Wrap it a few times." He instructed while she held her breath. "And always make sure you push it down."

"P-push it d-down?" She dared to peek over his shoulder. Push _what_ down?

"Yeah," he nodded toward the hook in front of them. "See this," he brought the hook dangerously close to her eyes. But she trusted him. She knew he would never hurt her. He'd never hurt her. He'd promised he'd always protect her. Keep her safe. Keep her close.

"See that little burr right there?"

She nodded.

"If the worm doesn't fall past that, it'll just fly off the hook when you go to cast."

Slowly, his arms opened up. The fire within her core started to fade. She was free and it caused her to frown. He was so warm. So soft. So...

Perfect.

Blinking, her eyes trailed after him. He did the same to his own line before walking to the water's edge. Gingerly, he sat on the soft sandy-earth around the edge of the water. In a fluid motion, his line flew back before it went flying forward. The only sound in the air being the sound of his line unwinding.

"You're going to hold this one while I cast for you."

She nodded before trading spots. He took her pole and did the same, flicking it back then forward. As it splashed with a _kur-plunk_ into the water, he shot her a quick grin.

His smile made her squirm. Melt. Purr. He truly was a gem. And he was alone. With her. Just them. Fishing before 8AM in the morning.

Joining her on the ground, Jack scooted closer and closer until their thighs finally rubbed up against one another.

She caught her squeak in her throat. He was bolder now that they were alone. When at work, he would keep his space. Really only hugging her or blowing her kisses. But alone? Out here in this vast Indiana wilderness? He was close. Oh-so-close.

Was this what it was like to finally find someone. _The_ someone.

Her heart thundered in her chest as her face grew ever-redder. She'd never dated a man before. She always worried about her studies and work. And then, then came Jack. He broke down all her walls. Made her laugh. Made her welcome this idea of love. Love with him.

Gulping, she tugged nervously at the sweater she was wearing. His sweater. The one that smelled _just_ like him.

"Now what?" She finally found her voice.

His free hand brushed back her loose bangs. As it did, she missed him lean in. She missed him pull her closer.

Only his face, his glowing, radiant, handsome face, was in her sights. And she in his.

Jack's lip twitched. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips, causing cute little creases to form just beneath the lip of his lower eyelid. It took of years of his life, making him look like a twenty-year-old again.

Her heart skipped a beat as his soft lips brushed against hers.

It was fleeting, but she was glad. That spontaneous combustion thought pushed back to the forefront of her mind again.

"We wait," his fist lightly tapped against her shoulder. "Unless," his lips twisted off to the side, "unless you've got something better planned."

Her face was bright red and she nervously brought both hands up to hide her face. He was so embarrassing! Always suggesting they do _more_. But she wasn't ready for more. Not yet! She was still getting used to the idea of calling him her boyfriend. To lov-

"Angel!" He lunged forward, which sent his body rolling over the land's lip and straight into the water.

"Eep!" Her hands smacked her lips. She was supposed to be holding the pole! And she let go and now...now...

A smile broke her frightened look. A second later, she was erupting into laughs.

Jack, oh did he ever look ridiculous! There he was, treading water, with a large lily pad smack dab in the middle of his golden locks. There were pieces of grass and seaweeds tossed loosely over his cheek, neck, and shoulders.

And the look on his face? Priceless. He was staring dully up at the laughing blonde on the banks.

Only, instead of being a jerk and pulling her in, he cracked a smile. That large, dashing smile that caused Angela to fall in love with him in the first place.

Soon, Jack was laughing right along with her, enjoying every second with that woman. If she was laughing, he was laughing. And, to him, hearing her laugh was all he needed.

* * *

The backside of her hand pulled the tears from her eyes. Silently, she sucked in her trembling breath. "God," not that she believed in one, "I miss him so much."

Lightning's soft muzzle nudged Angela's shoulder before chewing on the woman's blonde hair. It was time to leave. To explore further. To get lost in the past.

Brushing off the grass and dirt from her pants, she rose and mounted her horse. Lightly, she kicked her legs to get the horse moving forward again.

She didn't really care where they were going so long as she was lost in this wilderness. She couldn't go home. Not yet. Not now. Not after that near betrayal. And especially not with all the tender memories that could be triggered at end moment!

"Oh Jack," she held her throat while drawing in a ragged breath, "I'm so sorr-"

A flicker of blue fluttered past her eyes.

"A... butterfly?" Her head tilted to the side. And a blue one at that. Mrs Morrison always used to share that if you saw a single butterfly that it meant a loved one from above was watching over you.

This butterfly was a lovely blue color with two soft yellow spots. Jack's colors. His blue and gold.

"Light," she leaned in closer to the horse's neck, "follow that butterfly!"

Hand flinging forward, she opened the horse up to barrel on after the butterfly. Not that it was really necessary for the little insect was slow. But still, the idea of galloping around the open fields between the rolling hills sounded like just the distraction she needed.

When the butterfly moved left, the horse and rider would gallop in circles to the left. If the butterfly went right, they would jump and kick to the right.

And they did just that. Played and danced right after that butterfly. Long past the afternoon.


	7. Chapter 7: Cold and Wet

"Bye-bye little butterfly."

As soon as the words rolled from her tongue, Angela's eyes absorbed the world around her. She was no longer plagued with tunnel-vision and dreams. Reality set in. And that reality? Well, it was hardly one she was expecting.

Her hands tightened around the reins. Just... just where was she?

Spinning her head around, she tried to get a fix on her location, which was proving easier said than done. All around her sat some of the tallest pines she'd ever seen. Each looming tree cast large, dark shadows in the rather eerie forest she found herself in.

"Jack," her lip quivered, "why would you take me here?"

Where the rumors about the butterflies lies? Maybe butterflies were like foxes-sly and cunning, leading you away from the safety of familiarity. Or perhaps they were like ravens? Symbols of death, guiding you into the next life.

" _Jack_ ," her hands wrapped around those reins even tighter to the point where her knuckles turned white.

Fear began to set in, taking over her starving form. She never ate lunch (or breakfast for that matter) and after spending hours in the baking sun, her mind was starting to fray.

"No," she shook her head firmly. "This isn't like Jack." She shook her head again. "He would never hurt me." As she rubbed her eyes, she tried to refocus. She tried to collect herself. Prepare herself for whatever came next.

Only, the darkness around her made it hard to find hope. To find the light.

Nervously, she gulped down the lump that had recently formed in her throat. No matter which way she looked, nothing was familiar. Every tree was completely different. Not even the ground looked turned over, which meant following her original path would be impossible.

"Light," she sucked in her shaky breath, "ning." She leaned in closer, trying to calm herself with the horse's strawy mane. "Wh-where are we?"

Owlishly, she swiveled her head while blinking her large azure orbs. She was lost. Absolutely lost.

A light rumble caused her head to snap up. The sky was darkening-and for two reasons. The first being the obvious sound of a storm blowing in and the second being the common knowledge that it was no longer the afternoon. In fact-

Her body shivered. Arms wrapping around herself, she rattled her teeth.

It was getting late. Cold and late.

During the day, it wasn't impossible for it to reach the 90s. But at night? And with this cold front blowing in? Why, they'd be lucky if it stayed in the 70s.

"Shit," the word just rolled from her lips. "Shit, shit, shit." Her brows furrowed as she tried to come up with some sort of game plan. She had to get out of this forest. She had to find shelter.

The groaning of the pines caused her eyes to widen further.

"Wind?"

 _Oh god, what did the radio say?_ Her lips pursed as she tried to roll her eyes back into her mind. As if that would help her remember what she heard.

"Heavy winds, lightning, possibility for hail."

That much she recalled and truly that was more than enough information.

"We've got to get out of here," she whispered though her voice was drowned out by the moaning of the swaying trees. "Now," her bare heels butted lightly into her mare's side. "Yah!" At this point, anywhere was better than here. If Lightning could make a break for a clearing, that would _have_ to suffice.

Sure enough, the horse took off in a mad frenzy. Much like her rider, Lightning felt the air pressure change. The temperature was falling rapidly too. And the woman on her back? She could sense every nerve that coursed through her veins. It was enough to put Lightning on high alert.

As the trees became nothing but blurry lines, Angela felt her heart pick up the pace. She was nervous, trembling. She'd never done this before. Or rather, she'd never done this alone. And especially with no supplies. She had no shoes. She hardly wore anything. She hadn't eaten since 7PM last night. She had no medkit on her. No backpack with rope or knives. No means of making a fire.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

* * *

"There," Angela's body leaned to the left some. Guiding Lightning, they eventually broke from the forest into a clearing.

It was hardly a clearing though. If anything, it was about the size of a 40x40 room. It was small, but at least it was open. It would also give her a chance to look up at the sky. If she could catch a glimpse of the setting sun, she could figure out which way was west.

Not that west would help. She had no idea where home was.

"Idiot," she berated herself. She hadn't brought a compass. She hadn't brought water. She hadn't brought snacks. She just ran off. Ran off because someone suggested they romp between the sheets of her ex-lover's bed. Because she let him get close. Felt him up. Let him whisper suggestive ideas.

"Fuck you, 76," she growled. It all stemmed back to him. All of it.

Tears started to roll down her cheeks again.

She wasn't being fair. She knew she wasn't being fair to the mysterious 76. The 76 that bent over backward to help her. The 76 that was always there to listen to her woes. The 76 that took her son fishing. The 76 that saved her from the nasty frog. The 76 that got close, close enough to make her feel whole again.

SNAP!

Her head jerked behind her. Something snapped a twig. Lightning's ears flung forward as Angela's eyes sought out whatever made that noise.

SNAP!

Angela's heart went into double time. It thundered within her chest. Just... just what was out there? Perhaps the clearing wasn't the best idea? Maybe the forest was saver?

Lightning seemed to have the same idea. Bolting forward, the horse took off. It broke into a mad dash toward the safety of the treeline. If they could put some distance between whatever lurked in the forest, maybe they stood a chance.

* * *

Darkness swallowed them again. The forest was still. Quiet, too quiet.

"Whoa," Angela tried to slow the horse down. Stroking the pinto, she tried to brush away her nerves. But, if anything, it made the situation worse. Lightning was feeding off Angela's fear. A horse always knows what it's rider is thinking and Angela was swarming with nervous vibes.

Something rustled the bushes not too far off. Hands drawing back, she tried to shield her body. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. Closer and cl-

Her body was in free fall. The world around her seemed to slow. As her blue orbs pulled from the bush to Lightning, she saw her body flying off the back of the horse and falling harshly against the needled floor below. Her side collided first with the earth, which was soon followed up by her head.

Body smacking against the ground, all the air in her lungs came out in a sharp, hissing sound. Wincing, she tried to pry herself from the forest floor but found the pain from the fall too much to handle. Her head was spinning. Her body aching. Everything, everything hurt.

Outstretching a hand, she reached for the bucking, wild creature. Lightning was absolutely terrified.

"L-L," oh god did it hurt to talk. "Lightning," she tried to calm the horse. Hand out, she stroked the horse's powerful leg.

The moment it happened, Angela regretted it. That massive hoof came kicking back, just missing Angela's head. Rolling, tumbling, escaping, Angela put some space between she and the spooked horse.

"Light," she tried again but a crack of thunder about 5-miles off sent the horse over the edge. Away it ran and with such speed and vigor that Angela had no means of ever catching it.

"LIGHTNING," she cried out one last time before the realization that she was truly alone set in.

Body jerking and breath falling into quick, sharp gulps, she fought to get up. She knew she had to move but her ribs burned and her head throbbed. She's never fallen off a horse but she equated it to the same sensation of getting shot. That brief moment when your body loses control followed by the seething pain of actually taking a bullet. The way the body swelled with emotions and hormones. They way one's senses heightened so every little thing seemed like a big ass deal!

Wincing, she clenched her jaw. She had to get u-

SNAP!

Whatever stalked her was close. Dangerously close. Clearly they hadn't run far away.

Seizing the nearest stick, she swung it madly. "YOU WANNA PIECE OF THIS," she yelled. Though every ounce of her body trembled. She was not ready for this. She did not want to die.

What laid within these Indiana forests? What did Jack always tell her to be wary of?

Badgers, bobcats, coyotes, foxes.

Yup, none of them sounded fun. And with the world so topsy-turvy due to omnics and war, she couldn't help but wonder if a lone robot crawled within the forest. Or worse! A mad man.

 _"Oh Jack,"_ her eyes closed tightly as she held that stick at arm's length. If this didn't work, she'd be joining him soon.

The rustling intensified. Another twig snapped. It was coming.

It was coming!

"AHHHH!" She screamed, still refusing to open her eyes to see just what was going to kill her.

Then it came. Death.

A cold, wet death pressed against her cheek. And then came a lapping, coarse...

She opened her eyes.

Tongue.

 _Tongue?!_ Since when did death have a tongue?

A pair of floppy ears fell every which way as a tail happy wagged behind the massive brown and black coat.

"A-Avery?" Her hands cleared away the tears that blurred her vision.

She had to be dreaming. She was definitely dead.

But that...that looked just like Jack's dog, Avery. The one she saved over 7 years ago

No. No, it wasn't Avery. Avery ran away about a year ago. He should have been dead. And yet, there she was, staring down that loving, sweet face of an old friend.

"Avery," her hands clasped neatly around his thinned face. "Oh my god," the tears fell from her eyes again. Burying her face in his soft fur, she smiled happily. "Oh Avery," she rubbed him before pulling him in closer. "Oh am I ever glad to see you."

His tail wagged happy, thumping endearingly against her thigh. "Yes, yes." He littered her face with kisses. "Yes, I missed you too."

He must have gotten lost? Though, from the way he smelled, it didn't appear so. He was rich with the scent of baby shampoo. Maybe someone else took him in?

Her hands sought out his collar. Sure enough, it wasn't there.

"Avery," she gave him one of her coy smiles, "did you lose your collar?"

He barked.

"And did some stranger take you in."

His growl-like yelp-bark followed.

"So you didn't run away, did you?"

He yelped happily before jumping a bit.

"Did you?! Someone stole you from us!"

He pawed at the ground before flopping lazily in front of her, belly completely exposed.

"You nut," she laughed before giving him that much needed love.

"Avery?" She cupped his cheeks between her hands, "do you know where home is?"

His upper lip got trapped behind his lower tooth. He looked derp as fuck. Then, his ear flickered forward before falling back down. Turning curtly, he sniffed the ground a bit before barking and pointing in the direction she and Lightning just came from.

"Wait," Angela crawled forward, still too afraid to stand up for her ribs were mighty tender, "are you saying you can get me home?"

His tail wagged before a plethora of blissful barks followed.

"Oh Avery," she exclaimed happily. "Let's go ho-"

KA-BOOM!

A cascading roll of thunder shook the land. As it growled and moaned, Angela looked to the sky.

It was dark. Very dark with flickers of purple light dancing above the clouds.

"Shit," she bit her lip. "We need to get a move on."

Gingerly, she moved up onto her knees before hobbling onto her toes. Her body truly ached but at least she was mobile. "L," she grit her teeth, "lead the way." Her jaw was clenched as she tried to fight through the pain.

She definitely twisted a rib with that fall.

Plip ploop. Plip plip plip. Plip ploop.

The faint sound of rain came but quickly ramped up. In just seconds, it went from lightly raining to a complete downpour. The kind of downpour where the rain stung as it struck your skin. Not even the pines could keep that much water from burning into Angela's flesh. And with each drop that fell against her tender skin, she winced.

It was so cold. So fast. So wet!

Slowly, she started to move forward. Avery took the lead, tail wagging as he led her home.

"Good boy," she cooed to him, while trying to shield her eyes from the rain. Though it didn't really help as large puddles were already starting to form all along the ground. The rain bounced right back up, soaking every inch of her form.

Shivering, she picked up the pace. If they hauled ass, maybe they could get him before the lightning started to really light up the dusk sky.

Then again, was it ever a good idea to run in the rain?

* * *

So focused on getting home, Angela lost track of her footing. Toes getting wedged beneath a raised root, she felt something in her ankle snap long before her body made contact with the mud. Hissing, her head jerked toward her caught foot. With one quick look, she could already assess the damage.

"Fuck," she chided.

Again, she winced. Slowly, she snaked her body back to where her foot was caught.

Hands moving to break it free, she yelped. Oh god, did that hurt! It was already swollen to twice its size and a nasty red color. It also felt like was at least 110 degrees.

Pathetic blue eyes fell on Avery. "No more running for me," she quivered. But hey, at least they covered quite a bit of distance.

Thankfully, Avery was a brilliant dog. Wandering off, he found a stick that was nearly the length of him. Dropping it at Angela's hand, he barked. "Th-thanks," she mustered up the strength to say. Though she wasn't sure she could even use this. Her leg hurt like fucking hell!

But hell, she had to try.

Positioning the stick in her right hand, her shaky body rose from the earth. Only to flop down in it a second later.

Avery whimpered, coming ever closer to the woman. His wet, cold nose pressed lightly against her tender ankle. He was trying to help and knew that she was injured.

"Maybe we crawl," she whispered. She didn't want to stop moving as she knew it would only make things worse. She needed to keep moving, keep the blood circulating. If any fluids pooled into her leg, it would just make things way worse.

Looping her arm over Avery's back, she pushed forward with her uninjured leg.

They could do this. Her knee would get torn to hell, but they could do this. She could drag her limp leg and use Avery as her crutch while her other leg tried to power through it all.

While squinting with the pain, she noticed a dark patch not too far down the trail from there. Up, on a rocky cliff, sat what looked like a cave.

"There," she pointed with grinding her teeth together. "We have to get up there."

* * *

 _ **For those interested in learning more about Avery, you can meet him in my "Tomorrow at 7" story!**_


	8. Chapter 8: Ghosts

_If you don't find her, don't bother coming back at all._

Those bitter words keep cycling around his mind. The fact that they came from his own flesh and blood only made it worst. He could vividly recall Jr's stern blue eyes. Those blue eyes that, just hours ago, shared in jokes, giggles, and sipping on the same sweet tea. Those same blue eyes that adored him, admired him, loved him.

But now they were harsh.

Cold, steel blue instead of those soft, warm sky blue eyes. These were the kind of eyes a father would give his son when he went off to war. When he joined the military instead of becoming a farmer.

His hand gripped the fabric right over his heart.

God, the more he thought about Jr's blue eyes, the more he saw his father. His dad gave him those same eyes. Only, instead of finding _her_ it was, "If you die, don't bother coming back." Ironically, Jack did die (at least according to the world), but his father seemed to forget that cold comment from over 15 years ago.

 _"Dad,"_ he shook his head.

It finally made sense now. All of those damn comments that used to piss him the hell off.

* * *

"I'm not you," Jack screamed while tossing a bag across his back. Since signing up, things between he and his father had grown worse. They used to be inseparable. But then Jack turned 16. Starting getting into that whole 'the world needs hero' bullshit. At 17, he started prepping. Then, at 18, he left. Or rather, was leaving.

His mother flew out the door after him. "Jack, please," she plead. She knew that if things ended on this note, the relationship would forever be frayed. "Please," she collapsed into the dust-coated lawn. The year's drought was taking its toll on everyone. Sucking the life and happiness right out of the Morrison family.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jack turned his head over his shoulder. _"Please,"_ he couldn't look at her, but at least she could hear him, "don't interfere. You don't understand. Neither of you do."

"Jack," the tears cascaded down her cheeks, crashing to the dry soil beneath her. "Please. _Please._ "

He couldn't. He couldn't do this. Do this to her. But... but he had to. He wanted this. To become something more. To farm was to die without a purpose, or at least that's what Jack believed. He needed to get out there. Meet people. Prove his worth. Find his name.

Head turning back toward the old blue Wrangler, he sighed.

This would be the hardest goodbye. And he wasn't even saying goodbye.

 _I'll be back, mom. I promise. I'll come home when basic is done. Once I've got a position. A title. Something._

Without a word, he marched forward. Bag in the Jeep, he kept his eyes forward. Focused on the future before him. If he looked back, he knew he would be just a simple farmer. Alone in a wasteland.

* * *

Hand coming up, Jack's hand rammed into the visor still on his face. He'd forgotten about it momentarily. With a sight laugh, he shook his head. Funny how crisp memories can make you forget your surroundings and attire.

The rain was still coming down in buckets, which greatly slowed his progress. He hadn't even made it to the lake yet, not that he should have. That was a good 4 or more miles out still.

Eyes to the sky, he growled up at those dark, gray clouds that dropped large dots against his visor. It wasn't letting up; it was only getting worse. Darker and darker by the second, sans those brilliant white and purple flashes that lit up the ground.

"Easy," his hand brushed down the matted coat of the stallion. There was no point in getting them both killed with these kind of speeds. A brisk trot would work, it had to.

Creature slowing, Jack sighed. How the hell was he supposed to find her. It was like finding a needle in a haystack.

Still, he hoped for the best. _If anyone can find her, it's you._ He knew it true. He always found her. Always.

Knowing the path to get to Angela wasn't going to be a short one, he rolled his shoulders forward. Thinking about her (worrying about her!) wasn't helping. He needed to focus on something else.

He tried to focus on the soft splish-splash pitter-patter of the hooves against the soggy ground. Zoning and pushing all other noses out, a numbness lapped over him. Rocking him into another memory...

* * *

"Shhhh," he held back a laugh, though he failed. It still came out, but he couldn't help it. She, Angela Ziegler, was perfect. Everything he could ever ask for and then some. The way she laughed always made him laugh. She was precious. Adorable. His. "Don't give it away. You're a surprise, remember?"

Her welcoming pair of blue eyes locked with his shimmering blue pair. "Sorry," she giggled, giddy with the whole idea of being Jack Morrison's girlfriend. They weren't even 48 hours into their relationship and Jack was already bringing her home. Okay, okay, so they had been seeing each other _long_ before the official 'will you date me' segment, but those weren't details his parents needed to know about.

Creeping around the foundation of the house, Jack held up a finger. She was to pause. Wait there. Angela nodded, knowing the plan by heart.

Breaking from the wall, Jack rounded the corner, which led up to the back porch and, ultimately, the kitchen. "Ma," he shouted, "I'm hooooome~!" There was a pleasant chirp to the way he said her name.

Not a second later, a door slid open and the sound of quick feet against a deck followed. "Oh Jacky!" It was a woman's voice. His mom's voice. "What are you doing home?" Her hands were running through his hair, cupping his cheeks, and checking out his less-than-desirable hole-infected jeans. "What are these," she said tugging at the material. "Take them off before your father has a f-"

The deck boards moaned as another body stepped onto it.

"Don't hear from you for five months and you come back wearing that," his voice is gruff, antagonizing.

Jack rolled his eyes. "You do know what I do, right?" He pointed to the logo printed on the back of his form-fitting shirt. "Right?"

His old man snorted before shoving his hands into his pockets. "So what brings you here?"

Jack rarely showed up, unless he was looking for something-money, his Jeep, someone to mend his torn pants.

 _"Well,"_ Jack ran a hand through his soft, golden locks. This was probably the hardest thing he'd ever do. He wasn't the type to really bring a woman home. "I wanted to introd-"

"Better not be the fucking guy from last time," his father interrupted. "If I ever see 'm again, I'm getting the shotgun."

His face paled. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to bring his girlfriend over. Still, he had to stand his ground. _"Dad,"_ Jack's voice was sassy and sly, "His name is Gabe and he's my friend. We don't shoot my friends, especially friends who have high ranks in Overw-"

Again, the older Morrison cut him off.

"I don't care," he spat off the porch. "I don't like him. Know a bad tomato when I see one."

"Technically he'd be a _taco_ ," his mother corrected.

 _"Mom,"_ Jack's voice cracked. Did his mother really just make a racist comment. What was this? 2016?

"What," she chuckled to herself, "I'm just saying he's not a tomato. Not red enough."

Shoulders caving, Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is just going south. Coming was a mistake." Without looking, he stepped down the stairs, backwards. "Maybe I'll try back in a few months."

"No, no, no," his mother protested. "You didn't drive all the way out here to leave." Her hands crossed over her chest. Her husband went to open his mouth but her hand smacked him before he could. "Play nice or no pie for your later."

"There's pie?" His father was a sucker for her homemade pies, especially the cherry one.

"There will be since Jack is home."

Again, Jack rolled his eyes before sighing. How was he supposed to introduce Angela now? They ruined everything with their bickering and comments, especially the ones about Reyes.

"Well?" His father's brows hiked up his head. "You just gonna stand there or are you going to get on in and help set t-"

Before he could finish, a loud shrill pierced the air. Seconds later, a body flew from around the corner. A woman's body. Slim, fit, and with lovely, long blonde hair. She jumped right up onto Jack's back with a finger pointing toward the corner of the house.

"F-f-f-f-frog," her face burrowed into the space between his shoulder blades. Her hands further snaked around his body, absolutely refusing to let go until it was deemed safe and frog-less.

As if it were straight out of a movie, his parent's heads turned to look at one another before panning forward to spy the cute blonde woman clinging so desperately to their son's back. Their eyebrows arched as their arms crossed over their chests, questioning eyes evident as they tried to connect the dots before them.

Their son _never_ brought home a girl.

Breaking out into a ab-attacking laugh, Jack rolled forward. This action brought Angela swinging around until she eventually landed right before him. With his laughter growing, Angela fell in line, her melodic laughing pairing nicely with that of their sons.

With their eyebrows still quirked, the Morrisons glanced to one another before demanding with their bluebell eyes for an answer.

"Dad, mom," he drew the back of his hand across his lips, moist from the deep laughter he and Ang just shared in, "this is my girlfriend, Angela."

"Pleased to meet you," she curtsied before waving politely. " _Someone_ ," her eyes narrowed before throwing daggers at Jack, "forgot to mention that you have frogs here."

Biting his lip, Jack chuckled to himself. "I didn't think you'd actually run into one," his voice was soft, airy, delightful. It forced the wrinkles on his father's face to retreat. It brought a warm, buttery glow to his mother's face.

Mr Morrison elbowed his wife. "I like this one."

She leaned into him. "Think he'll marry her?"

They hardly whispered, which caused Angela to catch her laugh with her hands. Jack, instinctively, wrapped his arms around the woman and twirled her about, hoping to distract her and maybe get his folks off the ill-timed comment.

They were giddy. They were young. They were in love.

"We only _just_ started dating," Ang piped up before turning her beaming gaze up to Jack. "Right?"

He nodded, lips falling sweetly into her blonde hair. A quick kiss was planted before they separated.

"Jack insisted that I meet you," she stepped up with her hand out. But before anyone could take it, Jack's parents pulled the woman into their endearing embrace. "And you said they wouldn't like me," she teased while squeezing them back. "They're delightful," she added. Not having a family of her own anymore, Ang was more than happy to engage in a long, loving hug. It had been forever since she last shared one with people like this.

"You're welcome here whenever you'd like," his father stated.

A light smack fell against his forearm. "You mean, we'd like you to stay forever." His mother smirked, loving the thought of _finally_ having another girl around.

A moan came from the lawn. From Jack.

"Take it Jack doesn't bring many girls home," Angela said with that flirty grin in tow.

"Not one," his father retorted. "Wasn't sure he even liked wo-"

"OKAY," Jack stepped forward and to separate his parents from Angela. "So how about we talk about that pie."

* * *

 _And they wonder why I never wanted to bring people home._ He chuckled before pulling from those memories.

Happy tears clutched the edges of his eyelashes, but they didn't spill or fall. He kept them right in line, as if they were soldiers.

Then he crumbled. Caving, he fell forward into the horse's mane. His breath heavy as he tried to breathe. "Angel," his voice trembled. It was meek, weak. He was ever fearful. "Please, _please_ be okay. I-I..." he swallowed the large lump that blocked his airway, "I can't lose you."

As silence fell over him, Jack continued to stare at the ground. And god only knows for how long he rode there in silence. Each passing minute of solitude, brought him closer to the day he was presumed dead. Jack felt like he was losing this battle, just like the one he lost at HQ.

But at least Angel lived, he told himself. At least she survived. And, a smile pushed away his frowning, at least Jr was safe.

This, what he was doing-moping and being miserable-it wasn't going to bring Ang back. It was time he soldier up. Get tough. He'd been through worse. He could find Angela. He had to. The world, his world, depended on it.

Hands curling around the mask, he paused. If he was going to yell for her, he needed this damn thing off. But, doing that would reveal his identity. Would that... would that be good?

"Fuck it," he mused.

His fingers pried the material away, which resulted in a pneumatic hiss before a click released it. Really, he could have played the mask off as if he were Darth Vader. Actually, that made his brows furrow. He didn't want to be the bad guy.

Tucking his mask between his legs, his hands came up to curl around his face.

"ANGELA!" he belted into the storm. "ANGIE!" He called again. "WHERE ARE YOU?"

When the hills and forest bounced his echo back, he tried harder. Maybe he wasn't loud enough. Clearing his throat, he screamed the second the thunder vibrated the world around him.

"ANGEL!"

Somewhere, off in the distance, came a faint cry. It was hard to make out, too, due to the heavy rainfall. But, if he trusted his gut, that voice sounded like it said, "Help. Over here."

Leaning forward, he made eye contact with the horse he rod upon. "You heard that too," his brow hitched. The horse snorted, head nodding. "Well then, what are we waiting for. Heeya!"

Careful calculations allowed both man and horse to ascend up the rocky hill that stood between them and the faint voice on the other side. Hand butting against his brows, he blocked the rain from marring his vision.

"WHERE ARE YOU," he shouted into the valley.

The horse's ears jerked forward, wise enough to know that they were listening for a return call.

...

Nothing.

Nothing but silence.

Jack slid off the horse. "She's got to be nearby," he said with grit teeth, hating the idea that maybe he was just hallucinating. But the horse heard the return call too. He couldn't have been dreaming.

 _Arf, arf!_

The bark of a dog brought their swiveling heads toward the sound. Not installing the mask, Jack brought the visor to his eyes.

"Tactical visor activated," he repeated without prompt.

As the screen scanned the area, it honed in one one figure. No. _Two_. Two lifeforms.

Eyes narrowing, he stared down that red screen. If he looked hard enou-

"There!" Jack pulled the mask away.

Not even waiting for the horse to follow, he started jumping down the stone-covered hillside. A few times his footing caused a landslide (nothing noteworthy other than it did make him flail) but he did eventually make it down to the bottom.

Eyes up, he scanned the area. Last he saw them they were over th-

Again, he rushed forward. Body falling forward, he scrambled up that hill on all fours. It was probably for the best, as the grass was slick with all the rainwater-rainwater that still continued to fall around them.

 _Arf, arf!_ The barking was louder. _Arf, arf, arf!_ It was anxious too.

 _Shit,_ Jack chided internally. That meant only one thing.

Cresting the hill, his eyes fell on the collapsed woman. Her pale yellow hair matted against her face. Mud caked on her cheeks. Miserable painted all over her hunched shoulders. Her foot was wedged between a rock and a fallen log. Her jaw was clenched and tight. Her eyes, closed, but the vein above her brows bulged. She was in pain, immense pain.

Scrambling forward, his hands started to pat the log that sat upon her. He wasn't heavy by any means but, due to her fatigue, she probably couldn't lift it. It wasn't like she had breakfast or lunch!

With little effort, Jack pried the log off Angela's tender foot. Her ankle was swollen, at least four times the usual size now.

He winced. He was no doctor but-!

He patted his sides. _Yes!_ He took out the medical canister. If he cou-

 _Arf, arf!_ The dog's cold nose pressed against his neck.

"A-A-Avery?" Jack dropped the can as his hands scrunched up the wet, matted fur of the German Shepherd. "Have you been helping her?" The dog nodded. "Adda boy," he patted him before checking out the area. "We have to get somewhere dry."

Avery was already on it. Leaping forward, he climbed up the side of the hill just a bit. Once up, he started to howl and bark while running toward what looked like a black opening.

"A cave!" Jack's smile came onto his face.

Turning to Ang, he scooped the fainted woman into his arms. He was careful not to mess anything else up. It was bad enough her leg and ankle were already injured. And, from the scuffs on her shoulders and arms, it looked like she had a few minor bruises and scrapes too.

She was so light. So pale. So...

 _Bleeding?!_ She was bleeding. How did he not catch that before.

 _Double-time, just like we trained with Overwatch._ With uncanny speed, he hauled ass up that hill. In no time, he was in the cave and setting Angela gingerly against the damp floor. Reaching for his pocket, he felt the lack of weight. Brows furrowing, he patted himself down. _Where in the blue blazes did the canister go?_

"Shit," he turned to the dog, "I forgot the canister." His brow quirked. "Fetch?"

Avery complied and barreled out the entrance. A few minutes later, he returned with the tool in hand.

"Thanks, boy." He patted between his ears while pulling the device from the dog's jaw.

Shaking it feverishly, he then shoved it into the ground. The second it made impact, a warm, yellow glow illuminated the cave.

"Hey," Jack moved closer to his fallen angel, "I'm no doctor," his hand fell softly against her cheek. "But I'm here. I'll save you."

Leaning into her, his pursed lips planted a gentle kiss right off to the left of her lips. "I'm here," he cooed while brushing her hair back.

Brow furrowing, the tingle of the medical canister started to awaken her. Just momentarily. Just enough for her to open her glassy blue eyes to catch the face of a ghost.

 _"J-ack,"_ she fought to talk, exhausting gripping her. _"Y-y-you're h-h-"_

His hand brushed against her jawline. "I'm home, Angel." He smiled down at her, tears in his eyes. "I'm home."


	9. Chapter 9: Confessions

_**May thanks to Chyo on AO3 for the German translations!**_

* * *

As she laid there unconscious in his arms, Jack held her. What more could he do. Her body was pushed past its breaking point. She had scrapes, cuts, and bruises up and down her creamy, pale skin. She looked sick, weak, due to lack of nutrients.

Jack's mind raced back to that moment in the kitchen.

She ate. But hardly anything. He kept watching her pick at her food. They had a nice lunch but... but she didn't really want any part of it.

 _It's my fault._ He kept telling himself. If he hadn't flirted with her. If he hadn't 'saved' her from the frog. If he had just let her do her own thing. If he had...

He looked at the sleeping beauty in his arms.

"But I love you," he whispered more to himself than to her. "How could I _not_ flirt. _Not_ care."

He brushed back her blonde bangs, smiling down at her sweet, sleeping face.

 _But I should have done more. Should have told her to eat something. Told her I'd wash the dishes while she forced down some food._

Jack's finger danced lightly across her jawbone. "I shouldn't have led you on." But he knew that impossible. He loved her. Always will, he presumed as his heart had no intention of seeking out another. "But," his head butted lightly against hers, "you're just so distracting. You make me forget. You make the walls come down. I..."

Hand falling from her face, Jack rolled his back against the side of the cavern. "I can't keep doing this." Tears welled within his eyes, he blinked them back as best he could.

Avery, keenly aware of what was happening, rested his drying muzzle on Jack's forearm. With those large, brown orbs, he spoke to Jack. Told him that all would be okay. That regardless of what past he ran from, Angela-and he-would still be there. Because they loved him. Because they trusted him.

"I don't deserve this," Jack mused. It wasn't out of pity either. It was just a plain statement. He didn't deserve them-Avery, Angela, Jr. None of it. He ran away. He put distance between everything he once cared about.

"I died," he spoke in that tormented voice of his. It was agonizing, knowing that he left all this behind. The perfect dog, the perfect should-be wife, and the perfect son. A son he was completely oblivious to until 24 hours ago.

Avery's ears flickered forward. His tooth caught his lip, making him smile up at his master with that goofy, silly grin.

"Not that you care," his hand patted the top of his head. "You didn't know I was dead, did you?"

The whimper that followed broke Jack's heart.

"Shit," he cussed from behind clenched teeth, "everyone thought I was dead." His mind ran back to Skippy. Did he know? He had to have known too for that cat refused to leave his side all night long.

"I was a fool," he eyes flicked forward to look over at the young horse. "I left everything behind. Everyone. I..."

The horse swished its tail, uninterested in this conversation. It's not like he knew Jack.

"Well," he smirked, "at least not everyone hates me." He playfully tossed a pebble toward the horse, which responded with a snort.

"Still," Jack's hands went back to caressing Angela's cheek, "I...I think I made a mistake."

Avery's ear shot up. He barked before shaking his head.

"It's hard to admit," Jack continued. "I thought I could do this alone. That I didn't need anyone. That I alone could right the wrongs that Overwatch made. That I could rectify the situation. Bring back the truth that Overwatch stood for long before corruption seized its veins."

His hand slammed into the earthy ground beneath him. "But instead, I fucked everything up." His jaw tightened as he let out a rather feral growl. "Everything. Thugs now trade Overwatch goods on the black market. A new group, Talon, has risen and threatens peace. Gangs are ever prevalent in cities, causing mass panic and fear. Angel had my child, my child who I have yet to support. Instead, he's left with my parents. My elderly parents who shouldn't be forced to raise the son of their supposedly dead son."

As he spoke, the veins on his neck popped. His gaze hardened. And each word uttered was more disgusted than the last.

He was pissed, absolutely pissed. He had caused all this. He hadn't stopped anything. Prevent anything. He just added fuel to the fire.

"If I had just re-joined Overwatch," he wanted to go down that path, but knew that, if he did, he would have caused more harm. He'd be in jail. _Oh wouldn't that be nice. Hi, my name is Jack Jr and my daddy is rotting in jail because he used to belong to Overwatch. Yeah, I'd be a real winner. Dad of the year. Not that what I'm doing now is any better..._

Again, Jack growled. This was getting out of hand. No matter what he did, he just seemed to make things worse.

"Maybe I breed chaos," he didn't want to think like that but it seemed to follow him. Reyes, Overwatch, and now his injured Angel.

Shoulders slumping, he rapped his head against the wall a few times. Each time a little harder than before, but never enough to cause damage. Just enough to strike up pain and cause him to wince. Enough to serve as punishment for his blind stupidity.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," his head continued to bang against the rocky wall that engulfed him. The glow of the canister starting to fade as its medical contents dried up.

With all his ceaseless self-punishment and berating, he hadn't noticed the weight across his legs shift and stir. He missed her wide eyes behold his living, in the flesh form. He missed her lips twist into an angry scowl before falling into a happy, broken smile. He missed her drink in his words, letting each line of text process. He missed her eyes sadden before she finally reached out to cup his cheek.

 _"Jack,"_ she whispered, which caused him to jump from his skin.

Face pale and eyes drained of life, he stared down at the conscious woman that now sat in his lap.

Heart stopping, he froze. She was... she was... awake.

 _"Jack,"_ her lips flattened with concern. Her hand continued to stroke his cheek. _"Stop."_

His brows furrowed as his jaw clenched.

"Stop," she cooed again. "Stop, stop, stop." Her hand ran up the side of his face. Falling happily into his soft, white locks, she forced a smile. _"Stop."_

His hand instinctively moved up to rest over hers. Leaning into her touch, his antagonized blue eyes thirst for any sign of hope that she might still love him, despite all his lies and hiding.

Jack didn't know what to say. He held his breath. He hoped that she would take the lead. That she would guide his conversation, give him a clue as to where they stood.

 _"Hey,"_ her words purred lightly against his face. She was close, oh so close.

"H-hey," he managed to stammer out. His blood was running cold with the fear of what would likely follow. He watched her lips, her eyes, her posture. Any second now, she would fall into anger. Hate him, berate him.

Eyes closing, he held his breath. It was now. Right now. He tensed, ready for the attack.

"I've missed you so much," her head fell gently into his chest before slowly worming up to the tender spot between his collarbone and neck.

Squirming, as she tickled him, he stared down at her with disbelief. Eyes wide, his trembling hand fought to find its place on her back.

 _"I've missed you,"_ she repeated, pulled herself closer-not that it was possible for they were already pressed against one another.

"I-I," god he sounded pathetic, stumbling and stuttering like a love-sick fool, "I missed you too."

Her head jerked from where it laid.

 _Here comes the attack,_ he braced for it.

Only, instead of finding her sprawled hand across his cheek or her fist in her chest, his lips met a gentle, soft warmth.

 _A kiss?!_

Her kiss was so smooth, so perfect. Jack felt like a fool, fumbling thought it. He was completely taken aback, fully believing that he didn't deserve a kiss. Her love. Anything.

It was sloppy, off with the timing, and kind of messy. Wet and not quite right. But hey, it had been years since he last kissed her. That and he was still shaking, fearful that she would hit him.

"You've gotten sloppy," she teased as she pulled back from the kiss.

Jack grunted. "I'm not sloppy," he huffed. "I just... I just-"

 _"What?"_ Her head fell to the side. She looked like an angel. Her sapphire blue eyes made him thirst for another kiss. The way her lips pursed made her look ten years younger, if that were even possible. Her skin, slowly regaining its color, looked soft and pure as ever. She looked just like the Angela he left behind. She hadn't changed a bit. Not one bit.

"I, uh-" She was impossible to talk around. She was always trapping his voice within his throat. Making him look like a fool.

 _"Jack,"_ her hands curled around his chin. The way she batted her lashes caused him to swallow the lump in his throat. She was a tease. An absolute tease.

Her finger bopped his nose. His jaw fell open and his body stiffened. She laughed before wincing, the pain in her leg kicking back in. With one eye shut in an attempt to fight through the pain, she looked over at his now concerned face. "Oh Jack," she laughed her pleasant, airy laugh, "you've got that look on your face again."

"What look?" He quirked his brow.

"The same look you give me every time you think you've hurt me."

He blushed, which caused her to laugh again.

 _"Stop,"_ her finger pressed against his lip, silencing him before her could even think about apologizing. _"Stop,"_ she cooed again. "Stop being the Jack who brought me an injured puppy so many years ago." Her fingers ran down Avery's back, causing the dog to wag his tail happily.

She pulled back her finger before flicking it across Jack's chest. "I don't want that scared little Jack." Her eyes seemed to shift, a spark flickering within them. "I want the Jack who would boastfully walk through camp with me on his arm, not afraid to show off his so-called trophy _girlfriend_. The one who was confident. Witty. _Sexy_." Angela flitted her lashes before breathing lightly on him in an attempt to draw out the not-as-spineless side of Jack.

Blinking, he looked down at the woman whose legs started to curl around his hips. He arched his back, allowing her the room to fully encircle him.

"Not sure he exists anymore," Jack commented with a coy smirk on his face. He liked where this conversation was going.

"Well that'd be a real shame," she admitted. "I liked that Jack. The one that would just kiss me out in public because he could. The one that didn't care if the higher ups were watching."

Jack smirked. His hands weaved behind her back, aiding her in sitting upright as he was certain her leg had to hurt like hell. "Don't you think we're moving a little fast?" He had to ask, he never liked to rush into things, especially not after that incident at HQ. And more so because it was her. He never wanted to hurt her.

 _"Perhaps,"_ she flirted. "But if we wait until back home, I'm sure we'll have an audience."

"An audience?" Okay, he was confused. What on earth was she talking about. "What audience? I'm not going live or anything. I'd still like to keep up the guise of 76."

Angela's hands flew up to her lips as she half-snorted, half-laughed. "Wow," Angela's voice didn't hold back her level of sass, "since when do _you_ reject open invitations."

Jack's mouth hung open. He was still confused as hell. "Huh?" He looked around, was he missing something? Was there a hidden clue he had yet to find.

"Verdammt noch mal (hopefully this means god damn it)," she pushed back, her legs unwrapping. She inched away, arms crossing over her chest as she did so. Curtly, she turned her head away before snorting.

 _"Angel,"_ Jack scooted forward, "you know my German is about as rusty as the gate out front."

"Das ist nicht mein problem (that's not my problem)," she retorted back, nose still in the air defiantly.

"Come on," he leaned closer, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "Don't be like this." He kissed her purple shoulder, hoping the sweet gesture would get her to lighten up some. Maybe whisk away the pain, too.

"Ich? Soll nicht so sein? Du bist das Problem! (Me? Be like this? You're the problem!)" She tried to pull away but secretly enjoyed it too much. Finally, finally he was losing his guard and falling for her charms. "Leugnest mich zu lieben, Psh! (Denying me love, psh!/Deny you love me, PSH!)"

 _"Angel,"_ his voice was starting to have a hint of annoyance. _"Du weißt ich liebe dich, dreh mir nicht die Worte im Mund um (You know I love you so don't put words in my mouth),"_ he rattled off in horribly spoken German (more like attempted German).

She gasped. "Seit wann sprichst du Deutsch? (Since when do you speak German?)" Her hands fell gleefully around her cheeks. This was priceless. Had Jack really learned German just so he could 'fight' with her?

"Ich," his brows furrowed. "Oh forget it, I learned it when I was stuck in Europe for a few years. I was following you to make sure you were safe. When I was finally certain that you weren't going to be hunted or harmed, I left."

"D'aww," her finger strummed against his cheek. "You _do_ care."

Jack's shoulders dropped. "Wow," he mocked right back. "Maybe I should have left you under that log." He hadn't received his thanks yet, not that he needed it. But if she was going to be sassy like this, he would throw it right back in her face.

"Danke (thank you)," she leaned forward, kiss meeting his cheek. "mein Held! (my hero!)"

Gruffly, he turned away, blush still clinging to his cheeks. "Y-you're welcome."

Angela's fist landed against his chest. "So?"

His head swiveled back to met hers. _"So?"_ His brow rose.

"Are we doing this?"

"Doing what...?" He liked the way her lips spread into a devilish little grin. From the way she squirmed, Jack was finally putting two and two together.

"Our _thing_." She flirted.

 _"Hey,"_ Jack leaned forward to catch her chin between his hands, "you're the one that turned me down the last time I tried to bring you to bed."

Angela's expressions deflated. "How was I supposed to know you were 76."

Jack gave her a hallow glare. "What's my lucky number."

Angela's face flushed. Guilt washed over every inch of her body. Her hand smacked her forehead before she let out a soft moan. _"76,"_ she muttered.

"And here I thought you had forgotten all about me," he teased.

 _"Stop,"_ she smacked him lightly, again wincing thanks to the pain in her leg. "You don't get to be the coy one."

"You're right," his forehead fell against hers. Lips dancing against one enough, he smiled down at his beautiful angel. "And I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she fought back the tears that blurred her vision. "You're back," her voice cracked, "and that's all that matters."

Leaning forward, their lips met again. Only, this time, it was truly perfect. Right on cue. Not a step out of place. Back and forth. Blissful. Passionate. _Loving_.

They broke to breath before sharing the same wicked grin.

"I love you," both confessed at the same time before letting their bodies fall gingerly to the floor beneath them.

Finally, after years apart, they were whole again. The soldier and his guardian angel.


	10. Chapter 10: The Soldier and His Angel

**This chapter is NSFW! You have been warned.**

 **Also, terribly sorry about the delay. Between vacation and hospitalization due to an allergic reaction, I was a little busy. Anyway, I'm back and ready to keep this story rolling. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

With her back pressed against the floor, the attack began. Lips colliding, he didn't let up. If she didn't want this, she would have to kick him off. But from the way she groaned, purred, and smiled, he doubted she would end this battle anytime soon. Besides, it had been years since they last got lost in one another.

The loud sound of gasping echoed around the small cave. It caused both of them to wear a sly, side smile as their eyes locked on each other. The flickering flames off to their side cast shadows that really amped up the devilish exchanges shared with their brief staring. It was almost as if they never stopped being a thing, a couple. Like all those years apart were just seconds between their last exchange of love. Their love was like a burning fire-bright, warm, beautiful.

Truthfully, if you asked Angela about her thoughts on love, she would tell you it was a silly gesture. That one should never get in too deep; fall that hard or love to that extent. One should be wary and always keep an eye out for if you loved too deep, you'd be blind to the dangers that came with it. And yet, there she was, staring up at her beloved with curious, hopeful, love-struck azure orbs. And Jack? Why, he was always the fool. He believed in love to the point of thinking that true love's kiss could bring you back from the dead. Okay, so maybe he wasn't that cliche and cheesy, but he loved everything about the notion of love. He wanted to be in it and would fight to stay in it, especially with his pretty, blonde, German-speaking angel. To him, there was only one woman that could hold his heart and that was Miss Ziegler.

Batting her lashes, she chewed her lip. He was really trying to build up the suspense and god was it killing her. The way he looked at her made her blush. Despite the now white hair, those baby blues of his never changed. She could still read him. See right into his mind, his soul. His view on her never changed-never would-he would always see her as his perfect woman. And yet, perfect being such a double edged sword, never seemed to be a problem for the brilliant doctor for she truly was perfect. Even if she didn't think it true, Jack always made her believe it. His peerless love and devotion could move mountains and make anyone believe.

Just thinking of him and how he inspired her to be so much more caused her cheeks to flush an even deeper shade of red. They say the perfect partner is supposed to build you up, make you feel invincible. With Jack, Angela was an immortal goddess. No words, bullets, or idiosyncrasies could pull her down from the high he created. He was the wind behind her wings. The inspiration, the meaning of her life. Again, far outside her scope of what love should be. She never wanted it and yet she was in it, and in it deep. Hook, line, and sinker all for the poster boy of Overwatch, Jack Morrison.

Biting her lip harder, she fought to keep her hands to herself. She wanted him to come onto her. She wanted him to initiate. She always loved it when he did. When he'd scoop her up into his arms and kiss her passionately as he held her. They'd spin around, laughing, kissing, loving. Breathing would become difficult, labored, because they'd occupy every breath with the exchange of kisses and tongues. And just when she felt like she was going to pass out from too much love, he'd toss her onto the bed or couch and start to strip her down. She'd tease him by flicking her dainty toes across the taut material of his pants. He'd grunt and then she'd dive forward to help get him naked. She'd take her time and he'd complain. In seconds, he would overpower her and make that sweet, delicious, blissful love to her.

But... but that hadn't happened. Instead, he just stood there on all fours, hovering over her body. His soft, gentle eyes scanning her form for any hint of regret, pain, or guilt. Or perhaps it was admiration after years of only stalking her from afar?

She rolled her eyes. " _Really_?" She started to sit up, the pain in her leg almost nonexistent due to the canister and the nanobots in her veins. Angela's hand sprawled across his chest, gliding him back into a crouch. "Having second thoughts?" Her brow hitched, it was so unlike him not to devour her. To become a feral beast hell bent on plowing her fields. On making her scream. On making her moan, groan, and bite.

" _Hey_ ," Jack rocked forward so his hands fell around her shoulders again, "you're the one that took off running last time I tried this."

She puffed out her cheeks before making a farting noise in his face.

"Wow," he jerked back just a bit, "I think you've been spending too much time with Jr. Or maybe DVa?"

She groaned.

"What?" He purred while letting his eyelashes tickle her cheeks. "Something the matter, love?"

"Yes," she huffed, "you're not fucking me."

The second the words escaped from behind her lips, Angela's hand cupped around her mouth. Eyes wide and face completely red, she bit her tongue. Did she really just stay that? And so boldly too? But she really wanted it. No, scratch that. Needed it. If he didn't start doing something, she'd hop up on him and give him a blowjob to remember! Maybe that would kick this whole sex drive thing into a faster gear!

"Well," Jack's lips curled back into his oh-so-dashing smile. "When you put it like that..."

She held her throat. Her heart stopped within her chest. Was this... was this finally going to ha-

He...

He...

"I _hate_ you," the back of her hand rubbed away the saliva trail Jack's tongue left behind after her licked her face. Yes, _licked_ her face. With his gross, nasty, wet tongue. And extra slimy at that, like he'd been building up all that mucus just to do this. That he'd been buying his time just to give her the sloppiest of tongue licks ever. Frankly, it was gross and she was far from impressed!

He smirked. Then he leaned forward, this time in a slow, fluid motion. Without much though, he guided his hand down along her warm, toned stomach. Lips twisting to the side, his eyes locked with hers.

Gingerly, gradually, precisely, he slipped his hand between the wet fabric of her shorts and her soft, smooth skin.

The second his hand entered, Angela's back curled off the cave's floor. She pushed her lips together, fighting back the urge to moan. She wanted this. Oh god did she want this.

"Better not tease me," she let slip out. His brow rose; she caught it. "I've been thinking of _this_ since the kitchen."

So 76 had successfully penetrated her defenses. He'd broken in and was just a room away from bliss.

Or at least he was. But he, 76, moved too fast. Didn't really let the passion build up. And, as such, she bolted.

"Sure you're not going to run," he continued to let his hand inch down her flesh, which crawled with both nerves of delight and anxiety. It had been ages since she'd really let a man touch her like this. But this was Jack. Her Jack. The Jack who was more than familiar with her body's needs.

"Positive," she confirmed while unbuttoning her shorts. As much as she loved the pressure of his hand against her, she would absolutely prefer he get a free range of motion. His fingering was probably one of his better talents. He _always_ got her to orgasm with those damn smooth fingers of his. It was as if he was put on this earth just to turn an angel-faced beaut into a sinning little devil.

"Wow," he teased, "you must really want this if you're already taking off your pants for me."

She groaned, hating knowing that she was weak. But this was Jack Morrison, her Jack Morrison. The man she'd fucked more times than she wanted to count because if she was counting, it meant she wasn't fucking him. And sex with Jack? Oh, it was like breathing. Essential. Required. Needed. Absolutely necessary.

Hoisting up her rump, Ang managed to slip off her shorts all while Jack's hand found its home beneath her panties. Her heart was racing, just waiting for the moment. She knew the second his finger flicked across her, she would cave. She'd twitch, squirm, moan. It had been way too long and, truthfully, she'd been eyeing 76 for the past few weeks. Hell, she even toyed with asking him if he wanted to change his numbers to 69.

She couldn't help it. Sometimes you just get horny and the need for sex just takes over. But she held out. And she was glad she did. Though, she supposed it didn't matter. 76. Jack. They were the same person.

 _Moist. Warm. Hers._

His fingers dipped between the cracks. Pulling lightly, he became familiar with her folds.

" _Fuck_ ," the words rolled right from her lips as her legs instinctively fell apart, completely exposing her lacy, orange underwear. She was so thankful she decided to get that bikini and leg treatment with Lena three years ago. It would be a nice surprise for him, she presumed.

Chewing her lip, she tried to brace for impact, but the second his fingers found their mark, right there at her clit, she twitched.

Her hands flew up to her jaw, lightly pawing at it as he played with her pink parts. Unable to control her lustful grin, she sank into the floor beneath her. There was absolutely nothing she could do. God did it feel like heaven! It had been so long, so fucking long!

"Someone's wet," Jack's lips nipped lightly at her earlobes as his finger slid into her.

"No shit," she cursed with a huff, "it is raining outside." No way would she admit that it was because her should-be-dead boyfriend was back and looking sexy as hell. Scars? Mmmph! She could eat them up. And that white hair? Oh god, did she love the older look. It drove her wild, mad. It made her wet, perfectly lubricated for all the play that would soon ensue.

He smirked, loving how she was still trying to be his perfect little angel. She was every bit just as much of a sinner as he was and he loved it.

Stifling her moan with a kiss, Jack moved in further. It had been ages since he last felt her walls. Her spongy, wet, tight walls that throbbed around his fingers that stroked her passionately.

She tightened around his fingers, which caused him to groan into her mouth. "S-save that for me," he stammered out. Sure he liked it against his fingers but he would rather she pulse around him when his cock was in its perfect sheath.

"Oh trust me," she cooed while running a hand through his white locks, "there's plenty more where that came from." That sexy grin she flashed him caused him to falter, fall into her chest. He moaned while rolling his eyes back, exposing the whites of his eyes. God this woman was perfect.

" _Stoooop_ ," he moaned. "Or I'll cum before I even get inside."

Pulling off her panties, Jack tucked his jacket beneath her rump. No point in getting her butt all cut up, right? He would definitely want to hold that later, post-sex.

She smirked. Quick kiss on his neck, Angela laid her body back against the cave floor. He was in charge. He had control. He would lead this dance. This wild, sensual dance.

Happily, Ang rolled her eyes back and let her lips remained pursed. God it felt so good to feel him in there. She loved how his fingers always new were to flick, rub, and go. He'd trained them well and her body craved his touch. He was the perfect tomb raider.

Pulsing, pushing he caused Angela's body to spasm again. She knew exactly what he was trying to do too. And oh god, she didn't want to argue against it but she always hated it when she lost control like that. Still, it felt good. Hell, it was probably the best god damn orgasm one could get. "Ooooh," she fumbled. He kept messaging that swelling region, her g-spot. It was a slow process but with each passing second, Ang could feel her cheeks burn redder and brighter. Her body felt like it was on fire!

"Oh god," she huffed.

The sound of liquid filling void cavities caused her to chew her lip. It caused him to wince, which was out of delight rather than pain. She was ready to explode. To _squirt_.

The persistent pressure. The soft, direct rubbing. Oh god. Oh oh oh god! Heart racing, breathing fast and heavy. Ready to explode! Contractions, tightening, an overwhelming sense of bliss.

Euphoria.

It warmed every inch of her. Melting into his jacket beneath her, the release came.

"Oooooh," her lips pressed together to hum, "J-Jaaaack," she cried his name as her body jerked and lost control. Ears ringing, heart fluttering, cheeks burning, she fell limp against his jacket. That delicious scent of his caused her to smile like a girl with a crush. This, this was heaven. This was perfection. It wouldn't, couldn't get better than this.

"One down," Jack peeled off his shirt to pat away at the wet stains left from her ejaculation. "More to go."

 _More to go? What could that possibly ent-_

Diving down, his lips met the muscly insides of her legs. The second his lips made contact, Angela's leg jumped. She was jittery, still sweaty and warm from that g-spot trip. And now... now what was he doing? Going in fo-

His lips and tongue moved over her inner and outer lips. He swirled his tongue round and round. Fast, slow, it didn't matter. Every flick of his tongue caused her to huff and plead. She would whimper his name, unable to catch her breath. And then, then he positioned his tongue to move in. Lapping, like a cat drinking from a bowl of milk, he let her sweat, creamy liquids splash over his face, his lips. The devour. The ravishing.

 _"Oh god,"_ she moaned. Without thought, her body arched forward, allowing her hands to dig and rip at the white locks that continued to bob up and down between her legs. Her face was flushed, red and splotchy from too much heat. Too much passion. But god, oh god, did his tongue feel like nirvana as it lapped over her swelling, hypersensitive womanly parts.

Broad, calculated strokes with his tongue did her in. Crumbling, her back fell back against the cave floor as her pelvic region spasmed. It was hard to keep it still when Jack was doing that thing with his tongue.

Gasping, moaning, she enjoyed every moment of it. To be his meal? Why, she wouldn't trade it for all the gold in the world. His tongue, the way he ran it over ever lip and her clit, ugh, it was perfection. That tongue of his was more than worth its weight in gold!

His hand slipped up to her stomach, feeling her muscular contractions. She was going to orgasm again. Success!

Flicking his tongue feverishly inside her pink cavern, Jack's twisted, wicked grin started to suck happily on her flexible pink walls.

" _Fuck,_ " Angela moaned. She tried her hardest not to go in his mouth but that damned fool didn't pull back. He just kept sucking and letting his tongue lap over every sensitive aspect of her. Unable to keep it contained, she thrust her hips around Jack's face. If he wanted this, he was definitely getting it. All of it.

And all of it he took.

Her creamy, pearly white liquid tasted so goddamn good. His thirst for her sex, her love, was beyond compare. He absolutely had to have this. Have her.

Gulping it down, he smiled, satisfied after another successful hunt.

Kissing her outer lips, his head finally came up. Tongue licking his upper lip, he then chewed on his bottom pair. "Enjoying the performance?" Head dipping low, he kissed her navel. Then, slowly, he dragged his lip up her stomach. Hands reaching beneath her, he unhooked her bra before pushing her shirt up and over her head.

Two perky breasts sat perfectly in his view. Tenderly, he let his lips roll over those pointy peeks. Instantly, goosebumps rose from her flesh, which drew a cunning, fox-like grin to his face. Spinning his tongue in faint circles around the hardening tips, he'd dive in to suck and nurse, all while letting his hands paw at her flesh. She loved it, he knew she did with all those groans and moans.

Fondling her, Jack continued to wear that grin. She still had the best boobs on the market. Not too big, not too small. They fit perfectly in his hands. Just big enough that he could curl around them, hold them, enjoy them. And the best part? They were very receptive to his caressing.

Tender to the touch, Angela moaned. God, he was really good at stimulating every inch of her body. She either really needed sex or she really missed Jack. Probably both, as one without the other didn't seem like a plausible option.

Keeping her preoccupied up top, Jack gingerly pulled one hand free. It was time to start getting _his_ action. Butting the tip against her still tingling walls, he prepared to enter.

Only, instead of gliding his erect cock into her vagina, Angela's hand wrapped around it. Slowly but surely, it started to rub and jerk at it.

That simple motion did him in. Caving, he fell limp against her exposed chest. Her touch, it was something he'd missed. Something he'd been dreaming of since he crawled from the rubble years ago.

"Not so fast," she exclaimed completely out of breath. "I," she sucked in some air, "I think it's." She was panting. He was wearing her down with all these orgasms, especially after not having one for... oh, 5 or 6 years.

" _Angel_ ," Jack's hand fell around hers. She had stopped giving him a handjob so he aided with the rhythm she needed to follow if they were going to have a mini-discussion mid-sex. "You don't have to," he stated. But boy did he want her to! The thought of a mind-blowing blowjob also entered his mind, instantly growing out his penis.

"But," she fanned herself with her free hand while sitting up. The definition and hardness that sudden swelled within her hand caused her to fever. Every inch of his, oh probably 7-inch cock caused her to flush and falter. She dared to purr. "You've done all this for me. I... I need to-"

"To do something for me?" He shook his head. It pained him to do it, but he stopped their hands and pulled hers against his chest. "Angel," he smiled over at his beautiful blonde, "you don't need to do anything for me. You've already done so much. This..." he looked away, "this is the least I could do. For years you've been raising a son I never knew I had. You've been watching over my elderly parents on top of that. And you've been saving people, helping people."

At this point, tears had started to well up in Angela's eyes. The whole sensation that Jack was actually alive was starting to eat at her again. And here she was fucking up the sex. It really tore into her but she was an emotional mess.

" _Baby_ ," his body shifted forward. He engulfed her with his arms, bringing her nude form to sit against his. "Please, please don't push yourself. Let me do the work."

"But Jack," her lip quivered as her body fell against his. His flesh against hers instantly seemed to quell her. Something about raw contact always makes the stress melt away, right?

"No buts," Jack's nose nuzzled up against her jawbone. "I'm here." His voice barely above a whisper. "I'm here, Angel."

"Jack," she choked as the tears fell down her cheeks. _God I'm so pathetic._

" _Angel_ ," he held her close. He held her tight. "I'm right here, Angel." He cooed while planting a sweet kiss right below her earlobe. "I'm right here. And I'm never leaving. I'm never going to leave you or Jr. I'm here. I'll always be here."

Pulling into his chest, Angela broke into silent sobs. Grateful to have Jack back but worried about the possibility of losing him again. If she lost him again? Oh, she couldn't think like that. It would absolutely kill her. Drive her to madness.

Sex benched, Jack separated from her just enough to put on his briefs before handing her his pair of pants. "You're still freezing," he instructed. She took the pants and slipped them on, completely guilt-ridden to the fact that she more or less derailed their sexual pleasures. That she was 100% responsible for preventing Jack from finishing after several years of pent up sexual needs.

Handing her his dry shirt, Jack smiled over at his girl. "This too."

"What about you?" Ang worried her lip.

"I've got you to keep me warm," he flashed her a grin while pulling her close. "Now get some sleep," Jack pushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. She was hesitant, not wanting to close her eyes and sleep that is. "Angel," Jack smirked before kissing her lips. "I'm not going anywhere. I can't."

"W-why?"

"Gotta marry my girl," he brushed her tears away. "So my dad will stop giving me the death glare."

Angela suppressed a giggle. He was such a dork!

"Angela," his voice took a serious tone.

"Yes, Jack?"

He chewed his lip, "Will you..."

She leaned forward. Was this... Was he...?! She was already to nod her head yes! Yes, yes, yes! She would marry this man without a doubt.

"Will you get off my foot."

" _What_?" She cocked a brow.

"You're sitting on my foot." He pointed down to his buried foot. "I can't feel it anymore."

Smacking him, she huffed before rolling forward so she was closer to the fire. "I hate you."

"I know," he curled up closer to her, boner incapable of dying down. Did he want to bang her into the next chapter? Yes, oh hell yes. Would he? No and it killed him, but he needed to put her needs above his own. She was worn down, desperately needing sleep. They could pick this love affair up later. Right now, he needed to focus on her and her needs.

Curling up behind her, he wrapped one arm around her hips while the other snaked below her neck. "But," his planted a kiss at the nape of her neck, "just think, it'll make one hell of a story."

"Story?"

"Yeah, when Jr tells his future wife about how we met. How I died. And how we found each other in a cave."

Angela smiled while touching her heart, the folds of his shirt. "The soldier and his angel." Her head fell back against his chest; she nuzzled him. She was happy.

"The soldier and his angel."


End file.
